Healing
by Izzy Dixon
Summary: When Matt finds a teenage girl being beaten by a Russian trafficker, something in him can't leave her in the hands of law enforcement. So he takes her in and tries to help her heal from her past. Rape mentions and abuse mentions. May lead into the show.
1. Chapter 1

The city is screaming, but it's normal around this time of year. Like a mating season does for animal, the middle of summer always causes the city's inhabitants to grow...antsy. Violence skyrockets. More people go missing. Shootings become more frequent. It's always around this time when Matt wishes he had help.

Tonight alone he's stopped three shootings, four attempted kidnappings and a couple almost gang assassinations. The night's almost over though, so he takes a deep breath and deals. The Daredevil stands on top of a ten story apartment building, sightless eyes taking in the hustle of the city. A couple below has a loud argument over whether or not the husband has a drinking problem, an argument that he's clearly losing due to the scent of alcohol that fills his nose. Plus he's slurring badly and can't stand without the wall behind him, but that's not important right now.

There's a lot of shouting tonight. Drunks, druggies, couples, people at animals, people at cars. Everything is loud. He focuses in on each different scenario for a couple seconds before deeming it unnecessary to check out.

"I told you to stand up, bitch!"

That catches Matt's attention and he focuses in. Male, Russian, at least thirty-five, heavy drinker, chain smoker. His voice is laced with hate and anger, all of which is directed at the small female in front of him. Matt hears the female slowly rise to her feet, bones in her left leg grinding from a mistreated break from a while ago. She must not do it as fast as he likes because he crossed the floor and sends a harsh backhand across her face. The already unstable teen drop again without protest.

"Up!" the man shouts again, this time delivering a bone snapping kick to the teen's ribs. "The buyer is coming and you need to be up!"

That's all it takes for the rest of Matt's patience to disappear. The man takes off at a full sprint toward the disturbance, leaping easily from building to building to avoid being seen. The building the dispute happens is isn't that far, but the escalating violence in the situation could get worse if he doesn't hurry.

"Stupid bitch," the Russian spits as he hauls the female up by her hair. "I said stay up."

The Daredevil reaches the building and leaps onto the roof, kicking the door in and starting down the stairs. The metallic scent of blood hits his nose and he speeds up, jumping down the flight of steps that leads to the seventh floor. Again he kicks the door open and races down the hall to the right door, not hesitating to break down the barrier to the correct room when he reaches it.

The man spins around to face him, but he doesn't have time to react before Matt slams a fist to his jaw. He drops like a stone and Matt listens to his breathing, assuring the vigilante that he is in fact unconscious. Resisting the urge to break every bone in the man's body, Matt turns to the teenager on the floor in front of him.

"Hey," he whispers, stepping over the Russian in order to reach her. She isn't unconscious, so Matt doesn't understand why she isn't moving. He crouches down behind her, honing in on her specifically to assess her injuries. Two broken ribs grind together with each breath she takes. A fractured shin bone crackles as she tries to sit up. An open wound under her eye oozes slowly. Bruises. Scars. Old cuts. Reopening wounds. There's almost more injured skin than there is normal skin on this teen and it's making his stomach turn.

"I'm here to help," he says carefully, barely able to hear anything else over the sound of her racing heart. "What's you're name?"

The teen's heart rate picks up and she tenses violently. "Hey, hey hey," he says gently, extending a hand to reassure her. "It's OK." The teen flinches away from the hand and tenses more, making Matt fear for her tearing open any other wounds. He retakes his hand and stands, hands up as he takes a step backwards. "I'm not going to hurt you," he reassures gently, feeling the air shift as the teen turns her face to look at the floor. "I'm here to help."

She breathes harder, not moving but still not relaxing or looking up at him. Another wave of anger washes over the vigilante. Whatever -whoever- did this to her must have took a long time to get her to this point. He has to try something else. Her heart rate is too fast and that's causing the blood to spill from her cut thigh faster.

The man slowly moves his hands and removes his mask, hands still visible after the action. "My name is Matt Murdock," he says, causing the teen to furrow her brow in confusion. "I'm not here to hurt you. I want to help. I can take you to the hospital-" Her breath hitches in fear and Matt stops. "Or not," he corrects. "I could call the police-" Another hitch. "Or not," he corrects again. He pauses as she tries and fails to settle herself, also allowing himself enough time to think of a new plan.

"You could come home with me," he tries, causing the teen to inhale sharply again. "I have a friend, a nurse friend, who can help you without getting anyone involved. Just me, you, and her. I promise." He slowly extends a hand out to her, stopping just outside her arm's reach. "Please," he says gently. "Let me help you."

The teen hesitates again. Matt can feel her shifting slightly, pulling on open wounds and making them wider while grinding her broken bones together. She doesn't seem to notice though, definitely worrying the blind man. He's had similar injuries before and he knows they hurt like a bitch if not treated right away. From the smell, a lot of them are old and in the starting stages of infection. If he doesn't get her help now, she could die from infection within a month.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the female slowly lifts her arm and places her hand in his. Matt smiles gently and helps her to stand, moving at a pace that doesn't damage anything else. "Alright," he starts, making sure to keep his tone even and lighter than the situation may call for. "We have to leave," he continues. "Can you walk?" The teen hesitates and gives a quick nod, earning a similar curt nod from her savior. "Good. We have to hurry. There are three men on their way up here."

The teen's heart rate increases again and Matt takes her hand, trying to ignore how harshly she tenses at the action. "Follow me," he says, tugging her slightly in the direction of the door. He starts pushing his senses to the max as soon as they get out into the hallway, focusing on any and everything moving in the building. The men reach their floor and Matt speeds up, practically dragging the teen down the hall with him. "Hurry," he whispers, pushing aside the broken door that leads to the stairwell.

The vigilante doubts she has the ability to jump from building to building, so Matt takes them downstairs. He listens in on the conversation upstairs, the one that happens when the buyers enter the room and find her gone and the man unconscious. Of course Matt can't understand Russian, but he can assume from the angry tones they're not worried about the man. "They're at the room," he informs as they reach the bottom floor. "They found the seller." He pauses to listen again. "They're moving. They're coming toward the stairs." He quickens his pace and pulls her along beside him.

The two are silent as they reach the back door, Matt pausing a moment to listen to the world outside for any threats. When nothing comes up, he presses the door open and eases them outside. "We need to move faster now," he instructs, quietly shutting the door just as the men reach the stairs. "They're on the stairs and we need to put distance between us and the building. Understand?" He feels the air shift as she nods once and once again he mimics the action. "Good. Can you run?" The teen hesitates to think of the answer before nodding again. "Good," he repeats, tightening his grip on her hand. "Let's go."

The duo makes their way across town as fast as they can, Matt having to slow down considerably to allow the teen to keep up. Matt has to reroute their path five times to avoid the Russians scanning the city, but he doesn't tell her that. Eventually they reach Matt's apartment building and he leads her up the fire escape to his room. Once inside, Matt motions to the couch nearest the kitchen. "You can sit there," he says, trying to calm his piqued senses now that they're safe. "I'm going to change. Then I'll call the friend."

The female doesn't respond, instead moving mechanically to the indicated couch. Matt tries to take it as a sign of acknowledgement instead of a byproduct of torture, but fails and feels his core heat up in rage again. He inhales slowly in attempt to quell the anger and turns to the closet to hide it. After selecting a simple pajama set of boxers and a T-shirt, the man grabs his phone and heads to the bathroom down the hall.

The door is shut as soon as Matt gets in and he slams a fist into the wood, causing the teen down the hall to flinch. He wills himself to calm down with a few deep breathes then rests his head on the dented door. "Don't get involved," he mutters to himself. "Don't get emotionally involved." He takes a few more calming breaths and uncurls his fist. His heart rate settles and he inhales shakily.

The man quickly strips his uniform, wipes himself down, then changes into his pajamas, making a mental note to take an actual shower tomorrow. Now settled, Matt sets himself down on the edge of the tub and pulls his cell phone from the pile of clothes on the ground. He hits dial twice for the only number in the second phone and holds it to his ear. After eight rings, the line connects.

"Let me guess," Claire says, voice light in the way that makes Matt smile. "You're dying in a bathtub and you need me to clean you up?"

Matt laughs lightly and shakes his head. "Not this time," he replies, feeling his past anger starting to dissolve.

"Oh! Surprise, surprise." Matt laughs again and Claire continues. "What's up?"

"I have someone here," he explains calming down from his joy. "She's in really bad condition and she won't see anyone. I told her you would see her at my house so she won't have to."

Claire sighs and Matt hears her push her hair back. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" she asks, making Matt believe that she's already planning on coming.

"Previously broken shin," he lists, listening to the teen's shifting in the other room. "It wasn't set right so it needs to be reset. Three broken ribs. Cut on her thigh. Cut under her eye. Small cuts on arms. Bruises around neck, could be fractured neck bones. Broken collar bone."

"Alright, alright," the nurse says, voice shaky and mildly tense. "She's bad. Not as bad as you get but still bad." She pauses to sigh and that's when Matt knows he won. "I'll see if I can get off work early," she continues in defeat. "Give me fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Claire," he says through a smile. "I have to go. She hasn't eaten in a few days and she's in the first stages of dehydration."

"I understand," she responds. "Try to clean a few of the bleeding wounds if you can before I get there. Don't rebreak anything and have her drink some water. Don't over feed her and don't flood her. That would only make her-"

"Worse," Matt finishes with a nod. "I get it. Bye Claire." She gives her own goodbye before Matt hangs up and stands again. He inhales deeply to remain calm, trying to ignore the scent of the teen's blood, and opens the door.

The female jumps again and rises to her feet, making sure to keep her head down as he enters. "You can stay sitting," he comments, causing the teen to tense harshly and sit. His anger piques again and he clenches a fist. Before she can notice his anger, the blind man turns and enters the kitchen area. "Do you want something to eat?" he asks, somehow managing to keep his voice stable as he opens the fridge. "There's fruit? Or I can make you a sandwich." She shakes her head and Matt sighs. "You need to eat," he says, straightening to look at her over his shoulder. "Drink something at least."

She hesitates for a long time before nodding once and flinching. Matt grits his teeth at her instinctive fear and slams the fridge door shut. The teen flinches again and Matt swears inwardly. _Calm down,_ he thinks forcefully. _Don't get mad. You need her to trust you._

"I'm sorry," he says aloud, listening as the teen's breathing quickens to near hyperventilation levels. "I just..." Finding no words to accurately describe his feelings without anger, Matt shuts up and moves to the cabinet. He opens it and grabs a glass before gently, or as gently as he can manage, closes the door back. He fills the glass half full and takes it to her, making sure to make slow, definite movements in front of her.

He extends the glass out and the teen hesitates. "Go ahead," the blind man says, feeling the air shift rapidly as he hands tremble. "It's okay. You can take it."

The teen still hesitates for a moment before slowly lifting a hand for the cup. Matt doesn't move as her hand creeps up and wraps around the bottom of the cup. Once he's sure she has a good grip on the glass, the lawyer uncurls his fingers from the top and retracts his hand. The female holds the glass at arm's distance for another moment before Matt nods once in approval. "You can drink it," he says gently.

The teen nearly drops the glass at the words but manages to keep her grip. Again she hesitates for another second before easing the cup to her lips. Matt hears it when she actually makes contact with her mouth and when she takes a sip, but it takes a second after that for her to actually swallow. After waiting for what Matt assumes to be something to happen after, the teen quickly lifts and drains the remainder of the water. The teen lowers the empty cup to her lap and waits, body stiff and still in anticipation of something else.

"Do you want more?" Matt asks, causing the female to inhale sharply and tighten her grip on the cup. He doesn't acknowledge it but instead focuses on the small nod she gives in response. "Okay," he replies, gently reaching for the cup in her hand. The female meets him halfway and releases, quickly returning her hands to her lap and going still. Matt stands and returns to the tap, filling the cup halfway again before walking back to her.

She takes the cup again and does the same routine. A sip, a pause, then gulps. The lawyer takes the cup back and sets it on the table behind him. "Better?" The female nods. "Okay. Now we have to clean you up a bit." The guest tenses again and Matt holds up his hands. "I'm just going to wet a washcloth and wipe off some of the blood," he explains calmly. "We don't want it to get infected, do we?" After a moment of thought, she shakes her head, earning a nod of agreement from Matt in reply. "Good," he says, slowly rising to his feet and moving to the hall. "I'll be back."

The lawyer walks to the hall closet and pulls out one of the spare washcloths from the top shelf. He the goes back to the kitchen and fills up a small container with warm water and walks back to sit beside the female. She presses herself into the corner as Matt dips the cloth in the water. "Ready?" he asks, gently holding a hand out for her. The female starts trembling again and keeps shifting to look between his hand and the couch. Matt is patient however and allows her as much time she needs. A full minute passed before she lifts a still shaking hand and places it in his. Matt smiles warmly before starting to clean the small cuts on her arm.


	2. Chapter 2

**i always forget to do this in the first chapter but I owe nothing but my OC. Thanks for everyone who read and followed and favorited this and I hope to continue pleasing you all. (In a non weird way)**

Matt soon realizes that the closer distance to the female only means harsher trembling and sharper smells. He feels every vibration in the air as the teen shakes in a poor attempt at hiding her fear. Almost every old wound smells strongly of the infection Matt was worried about. Dried blood. Sweat. Old latex. Cheap cologne. The medicated ChapStick one man had on when he...

The scents turn Matt's stomach but he doesn't say anything, instead trying to focus his attention to other things to distract his overdriven senses. An old, married couple laughing at a TV show in the next building. The scent of grease from the fries next to them. The metallic taste of the teen's blood in the air.

He tightens his grip on the cloth in his hand as he wrings it out again, mentally noting to change the water again soon. He doesn't need to see it to know it's tainted with the blood and other residue residing on the teen's skin. He's already had to change it twice for both arms and her face. That alone sent the teen's heart rate skyrocketing to a rate that nearly makes Matt sick. The constant pounding of her heart and the scents colliding makes his head pound and his stomach turn up a storm.

But he endures and thanks all the Saints in heaven that he got to her before anything worse could happen. Not that anything could be considered worse at this point.

Claire's scent hits him as soon as she enters the block. The overused cleaning supplies from the hospital. The chemicals in the hairspray she used this morning. The trace scents of washed away blood. Matt's stomach almost empties at the surprise scent.

"My nurse friend is here," he informs as Claire enters the building, the contents of her travel medical bag shifting with each step she takes. The teen of course jumps at his words, but Matt was anticipating it and released her before she did. "I'm going to let her in, okay?" Two deep inhales and a nod is what he receives in response. He returns the gesture and stands, keeping his hands in view as he gathers the dirty water and rag from the table as he stands. After depositing both in the kitchen sink, the lawyer makes his way to the front door and opens it just before she knocks. Claire jumps and Matt smiles. "Hello, Claire," he says, listening as the nurse swears violently under her breath.

"Jesus, Matt," she breathes, placing a hand on her chest to lower her slightly elevated heart rate. "You could've at least waited for me to knock before you opened the door."

Matt allows a few good natured chuckles at his friend's start as he shakes his head at the ground. "That wouldn't be the gentlemanly thing to do," he responds, lifting his head to her again. "Plus it probably would have made our guest jump out of her skin."

And just like that, Claire is all business. Her jaw tightens. Her back straightens. Her heart rate slows. All signs Matt learned that means she's ready for anything. "Alright," she says calmly, attempting to shift to see inside his apartment. "Let me see her."

The vigilante nods once and steps aside, opening the door wider to allow her access. "She's on the couch," he informs as she walks past him. "She hasn't said a word since I found her. Try not to make any sudden movements."

Claire nods as she walks, slowing down slightly when she reaches the end of the hall. "Hey, sweetie," she says gently, holding her hands up in peace when the teen jumps. "It's okay, baby," she says, slowing even more when she reaches the end of the couch. "I'm just here to help. Can I sit?"

Matt shuts the door as the teen nods once, earning a slower, similar nod from Claire as she lowers herself onto the cushion. A small, proud smile flicks on his lips. He knew he made the right choice with Claire. Yeah, she found him bleeding in the dumpster and made the fateful decision to continue helping him. But she kept coming back no matter what he threw at her. This is no different.

She's careful with every movement she makes, gently setting her bag on the coffee table to not scare the teen. Calmly asking to see the wounds that litter her body. Lightly taking the slowly offered arm.

"You didn't finish cleaning this, did you Matt?" she asks, barely raising her voice louder than necessary as Matt reenters the room. She doesn't release the patient's arm as she turns her head toward him. "Can I give her a bath?"

"If she agrees," the blind man responds, folding his arms and leaning against the nearest wall.

Claire nods and returns to facing the other female. "I need to give you a bath," she says, keeping her voice even ask she address the teen. "So I can clean the wounds. Most of them are starting to get infected. We don't want the infections to get worse. Is that okay?"

Surprisingly, the younger female's heart and breathing rate slows. Of course it's still racing by any medical standards, but it's a sign to Matt that she's relaxing, at least some. Another nod and Claire the same. "Alright," she says, rising to her feet and offering the teen a hand. After a few seconds of clear hesitation, the teen lifts a still trembling hands to the nurse. Matt smiles faintly as Claire helps the teen down the hall and into the bathroom. He made a really good choice with Claire.

It doesn't take too long for the two to finish and Claire opens the door a crack. "Matt," she calls as the water drains from the tub. "Do you have anything she can wear for the night?"

Matt stands from the couch he situated himself on and walks to his dresser. "Um," he replies, opening the top drawer and retrieving an old T-shirt and a new pack of boxer shorts. "Yes," he says after tearing open the pack and receiving a pair. He makes his way down the hall and places the articles in Claire's waiting hand. He receives a quick thanks and the door shuts again.

Without anything more to do, the lawyer walks back and sits on the couch. As soon as he does, the crack reforms in the door. "Matt," Claire calls again. "Can you bring my medical bag from the table?" Matt rises and retrieves the bag, walking it down and places it in her once again waiting hand. Another quick thanks and shut door.

Matt stands there for a second, waiting for another favor to be asked. Nothing happens after half a minute and Matt returns to the couch. His senses go haywire again with nothing more to do, picking up on everything within a three block radius. The dog peeing on a tree half a block over. A burnt pot of chili in the building across the street. The sound of a drunk trying to get in a house two blocks over. The little girl crying loudly for ice cream on the floor below.

It's the simulants in his own apartment that really does him in though. The soap and hot water Claire used to clean the youth. Her gently murmured explanations about every move she makes. The sound of needle and string pulling flesh together for stitches. Strong disinfectants that leave a burning taste in the back of his throat. He's able to hold his stomach in check as the process continues, but he's pushed too far when Claire has to reset the teen's poorly healed shin.

The injury isn't that old so the break is clean. A single, simple snap that manages to pull a sharp, involuntary whine from the teen in response. The sound sends Matt's already upset stomach overboard and he's up a second after, barely making it to the kitchen sink as the contents of his stomach are forced back to existence. Once that's over, the man turns on the tap and rinses the mess down the drain, taking handfuls for himself to rid the taste from his mouth. He's finishing the cleansing process as the bathroom door opens again, both females exiting at a slowed pace. Claire has one arm looped around the teen's waist as they walk, careful to prevent the inflatable cast on her leg from hitting the ground.

"I've done all I can for now," she says, sending Matt quick looks over her shoulder as she sits the teen back on the couch. "I need to come back tomorrow to put a boot on her leg and rewrap it better," she explains, a hint of questioning entering her tone when she turns to face him when he exits the kitchen. "You okay?"

Matt nods and wipes the excess water from his mouth. "Yeah," he says through a sigh. "Just a little...overwhelmed."

Claire nods in understanding and returns her eyes to the teen beside her. "She needs to eat something," she says, slowly pressing the back of her hand to the teen's forehead. "Do you know her name, Matt?"

The lawyer shakes his head and walks to the other side of the room to stand in front of the two females. "As I said," he starts, "she hasn't said a word since I got her."

"Have you tried getting her to write it?" Claire asks, her tone giving him the impression she's raising an expectant eyebrow in his direction. "Or does she know sign language? There are other ways of communication than verbal, Matt."

Her tone makes Matt smile. "I hadn't thought about that," he admits.

"Of course not," Claire responds, returning her eyes to the teen. "Can you write, sweetie?" she asks gently, previous tone wiped away completely. The teen ponders the thought for a few seconds before giving a small nod in return. Claire returns the gesture before looking to Matt. "Do you have a pencil and paper?"

The blind man nods and moves to his nightstand. He returns with a barely used legal pad and a dull pencil. "Here," he says, extending the objects to Claire's hand.

Claire then slowly offers them to the girl beside her. "Alright, hon," she says gently as the teen accepts the materials. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay? I need you to answer them as best you can. You think you can do that for me?" Once again the teen nods, earning a small smile from Claire in response. "Good. Can you tell us your name?"

The pencil trembles in the teen's hand, but she manages to scribble out a few letters and show Claire. "Leslie," the doctor reads, knowing Matt can't see it. "That's a nice name. Do you have a last name?" Another pause and scribbles. "Don't remember," Claire says. "I'm sorry. Maybe we can help you remember it." Leslie nods once.

Claire looks over to Matt and nods in approval. "I'll help however I can," he assures.

Another nod from Claire before she looks at Leslie. "How old are you?" Two scribbles. "19." Another nod. Claire looks to Matt again. "Where did you say you found her?"

Matt straightens and clenches a fist at his side. "She was being beat by a Russian," he says, previous easing back into his body. "They were about to sell her out when I got there."

Claire stiffens slightly at the explanation but keeps her voice level as she turns to speak to Leslie again. "Do you know any of the names of the buyers?" she asks slowly. "Or any of the previous people who you stayed with?"

Leslie's breath hitches, her heart rate jumping from almost calm back to rabbit pace in a matter of seconds. The hand the pencil is in clenches tighter and the notepad is almost crushed in her grip. Her breathing comes out in labored, wheezy pants, causing her heart rate to speed up in even more panic. Hot, salty tears pour from her eyes, cutting trails through the soap residue on her face. A sheen of cold sweat appears on the surface of her skin, causing her to shake even harder than before.

"Leslie," Claire says, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder, but the teen pulls away and curls into a ball on the other end of the couch. The cast on her leg prevents one leg to curl properly, sending an even rougher wave of anxiety through the teen. "Leslie," Claire says again, rising to give her some room. "Breathe. You're okay, honey. You're safe."

The teen's heart rate stays racing, breathing taking more effort than ever now. Matt shifts to take a step forward but Claire's arm stops him from advancing. "You'll do more harm than good," she advises, keeping her eyes on the teen as she curls into herself even tighter. "Get me a blanket," she instructs. "The biggest, heaviest one you have. Now."

Matt doesn't waste time with a nod, simply moving and reaching the hall closet with quick, lengthy strides. He opens the door and grabs the largest blanket from the bottom shelf before kicking it shut behind him as he leaves. He returns just as quickly and hands over the blanket. "Thanks," the nurse mutters quickly, moving hastily to drape the blanket around Leslie's shoulders. "Alright, baby," she says gently, releasing the teen and crouching down in front of her. "Breathe with me. It's okay. You're safe, baby, just breathe, okay? Look, breathe in..." Leslie tries, only succeeding in pulling a strained choking sound from her own core. "Good," Claire encourages. "Now out." An almost similar result occurs, this time sounding more like a shaky sob more than a choke.

It takes ten minutes of rhythmic breathing for Leslie to calm down, or at least as calm as she can get. Her heart still races at an alarming rate and her breathing can never stay steady, but they're both more stable than before. Matt counts it as a small victory and uncurls the fist he never knew he made. "Matt," Claire says, slowly standing from her crouch in front of Leslie. "I need a cup of water." Matt nods and does as told, returning with the same half filled glass from before. Claire accepts without turning around and lowers herself to the other end of the couch. "Leslie," she says gently, causing the teen to flinch and tense harshly. "Leslie, I need you to drink this, okay? You're dehydrated and sweating. You need the fluids."

The teen gnaws on the inside of her lip, causing a trace scent of metal to enter Matt's nose. She pulls the blanket higher around her shoulders before slowly raising a hand and taking the cup. Sip. Pause. Gulp. Claire nods in approval at her actions and takes the empty cup once Leslie hands it back. "Good," she says, slowly moving to stand. "Matt will bring you more in a minute, okay? I have to talk to him outside for a second. Is that okay?" Leslie takes a second to answer before giving a small nod in reply. Claire returns the gesture then turns to Matt. "Hallway," she says before turning and walking out.

Matt follows a second after and is soon shutting the front door once they're in the hall. "What happened?" he asks, making sure to keep an ear out for anything in the other room.

Claire folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head slightly. "Anxiety attack," she responds. "Believable considering everything I can assume that happened to her." She releases a strained sigh and unfolds an arm to run through her hair. "Jesus...I'm not qualified in head shit, Matt. Best I can tell you is to take her to someone who-"

Matt shakes his head quickly to stop her from continuing. "No," he rejects. "She won't let me take her to anyone. I barely got her to come here and see you. Everything else is a definite no." He rubs a hand down his face and releases a similar sigh. "Can you give me any advice?" he asks, lifting a hand in mild defeat. "I don't know how long she's going to stay and I don't want to set her off again..."

Claire shrugs and shakes her head in thought. "Avoid triggering content," she says, clearly trying to remember the stuff from med school. "Don't throw too much at her at one time. If she does have another attack, wrap her up and do the breathing thing with her. Keep her grounded. I suggest getting an actual weighted blanket so she doesn't overheat when she's panicking." She hums in thought and shrugs again. "That's about all I got," she says, sending a quick glance down to her cell phone as she speaks. "You may need to Google the rest cause I have to go."

Matt's eyebrows rise in confusion. "Leave?" he repeats. "But-"

"I have work tomorrow, Matt," she explains, stepping around him to get inside. "I'll be back as soon as I can tomorrow, but I can't stay any longer. My boss already chewed my head off for taking off early tonight."

"What do I do till then?" the lawyer asks, following her in and keeping his voice low.

The nurse gathers her medical stuff from the bathroom and walks out into the living room. "Make sure she doesn't overheat," she starts, lifting a hand and gaining approval before resting it on the teen's forehead again. "Keep her hydrated. Feed her something. Get her on a regular bathroom schedule if she's not already." She retakes her hand and returns to stand in front of Matt. "Clean her wounds and change her bandages every few hours. Talk to her before trying anything. Avoid anything that may cause another attack." She places a gentle hand on the side of his face. "Make sure she's OK," she sums through a sigh. "I'll be back with a better boot for her leg after my shift tomorrow. Be careful until then."

Matt smiles and leans into her touch, nodding attentively after every instruction. "Thank you, Claire," he says once she finishes. "For everything."

Claire manages a breathy chuckle before retaking her hand and stepping away. "You say that every time I do something for you," she starts lightly, leading the way as she walks out the door. "If you keep it up, it may lose its meaning."

The lawyer returns the chuckle and shakes his head, stepping a bit faster in order to open the door for her. "I always mean it," he say through a smile as she exits. "And I always will."

After another chuckle, the nurse lifts a hand and sets off. "See you tomorrow," she says as she reaches the stairs. "Don't hurt yourself anymore tonight."

Matt laughs lightly and shakes his head, listening as she gets down the entire first flight of stairs before shutting the door. He exhales happily and turns back to the living room, almost losing his happiness when the scent of old blood hits him. He pushes it to the side as gets deeper into the room, taking his seat on the couch in front of the one Leslie sits on. "So," he starts, shoving aside the involuntary jump Leslie gives when he speaks. "Are you hungry?"


	3. Chapter 3

**I got caught up on Sunday so I didn't have a chance to work on the chapter. I worked on it for the past two days so I hope you like it. Thank you for everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! Onto the chapter!**

 **I own nothing!**

Sleep didn't come easy for the blind man. With the normal ongoings of the city being intensified by his still glitching senses getting added to Leslie's pounding heart and erratic breathing, Matt is surprised he managed to sleep at all. Albeit it was only an hour or two, it's enough to get him moving when his phone starts vibrating.

 ** _Foggy..._** it rings after a second, causing Leslie to gasp and tense violently from fear. ** _Foggy...Foggy...Fo-_**

Matt smacks the phone haphazardly a few times before he manages to answer it. "Hello," he grumbles, the word slurred heavily from exhaustion.

"Are you still not up?" his friend asks, more energetic than Matt deems healthy for whatever time it is this morning. "We have to be at the office in twenty minutes. Get up, lazy!"

The blind man breathes a chuckle and sits up, wounds from previous fights sore and straining from the effort. He didn't push himself too hard last night, but most of the wounds Claire stitched up weren't fully healed when he went out, so they either reopened a bit or just ache worse than before. "Sorry," he says running a hand through his bed-styled hair. "Rough night."

Foggy sighs his usual sigh of worry mixed with slight annoyance and, from the sounds on the other end, shifts the phone. "I'm assuming you don't mean the sexy kind of rough," he says, lowering his volume against any nosy passersby. "What happened?"

"Uuhh," Matt says, listening to Leslie try to settle herself on the couch. From the sound of her labored breathing and slower movements, she's still hurt from last night and she didn't get any sleep. "Long story," he settles through a huff.

Foggy is quiet for a second before he releases a similar sigh. "Alright," he says after a while. "I'll be right over."

Matt's brows pull together in confusion. "What?" he asks. "What do you-"

"I'm coming over," Foggy says again. "I'll call Karen and tell her we'll be in late and we're going to talk about what happened. And no, you can't talk your way out of this. I'll be there in a few." And with that, the line cuts off.

Matt would call back, but with the determination in his friend's voice, he doubts anything will keep him away. With a sigh, Matt presses the lock button and sets his phone back on the nightstand, turning his attention to the teen on the couch. "Are you hungry?" he asks, earning another sharp inhale from his guest. "Thirsty? Anything?" Leslie thinks about it for a moment, but her stomach gurgles before she has a chance to answer. "I'll take that as a yes." He stretches and rises from the bed, feeling the air shift when the teen tenses.

Claire's instructions ring slightly in his head as he heads for the kitchen. "Do you have to use the restroom?" he asks, noting the way the teen's face twitches slightly at the question. After a second, she nods hesitantly. Matt returns the gesture and lifts a hand. "You can go," he says gently before reaching up to the first cabinet he gets to in the kitchen.

Leslie pauses for a moment before shifting the blanket to the side and rising. She practically tiptoes around Matt in the kitchen and keeps turning her head to look at him. The lawyer makes sure to keep almost perfectly still through her entire walk to ensure she doesn't freak out. He's already worried about her too fast heart rate and overly shaky breathing, so adding more stress to her would definitely spell disaster.

Once the bathroom door is shut, Matt tunes her out and continues raiding his poorly stocked kitchen. A majority of what he has is take-out leftovers, dried fruits, crackers, old bread, and a few sketchy boxes in the back of a cupboard. He highly doubts any of the proper nutrients that Leslie needs can be found in his few options, so he makes a note to ask her for take-out options when she returns. He shuts the final cupboard and stands just as the bathroom door opens again.

"Hey," he says, making Leslie jump when she gets to the kitchen doorway. "I don't have much," he admits, taking a step back to help her relax, even if she doesn't. "So I was thinking take-out? There's a Thai place down the street. Or we can order pizza." Leslie's legs tremble under her as he speaks and Matt's not sure how much longer they can last. The stitches on her cut are starting to pull with her tension and her rebroken shin bone grinds every time she shifts her weight.

"You can sit down," he says, motioning to the couch she was on last night. "I can get some menus and we can order as soon as you're ready." Leslie nods once and starts back to the couch, once again sending glances at him as she walks. Matt digs through a spare drawer by the fridge, grabs what he assumes to be menus and walks back to the living room. Leslie is lowering herself back into her blanket nest when Matt returns, allowing her feet to stay on the floor instead of pulled onto the couch like before. That small detail alone lets Matt know she really is in pain.

He approaches from the side she doesn't occupy, which helps some of her nerves, and extends the menus out to her. "Here," he says. "You can look over these." Leslie shifts nervously and clenches a fist, biting her lip so hard she draws blood again. Slowly, her hand creeps out and she accepts the papers. "Tell me what you like..." Matt says before he remembers Leslie doesn't talk. "...or...indicate..." he continues, then realizes he can't read what she might point to. "...or..."

Leslie's brow twitches slightly and Matt reads it as her first indication of confusion. At least we're getting somewhere, he thinks through an inward and outward sigh. "I take it those aren't food menus?" he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The teen slides closer to the edge of the couch hesitantly before giving a curt shake of the head in reply. Matt sighs and drops his arm to his side. "I thought I put those in that drawer," he mutters to himself before extending a hand to retake the papers. "Sorry," he says in genuine sorrow. "I couldn't see what was on them."

Another confused brow twitch from Leslie and Matt nods. "I'm blind," he explains, earning a twitch of a different emotion that flashes on Leslie's face. Matt smiles faintly. "Yeah. Totally blind. Well, sight wise." Confused twitch from Leslie and Matt continues. "My other senses are heightened to the point that I don't need my sight," he explains. "I can feel the vibrations and air shifts when something moves. I can hear everything from here to three blocks away. I can smell anything there is to smell in this building and the next. The tastes are awful." He realizes he's probably overwhelming the teen and stops before he blows into a full out rant.

"Sorry," he says again, causing the teen to lift her head in his direction. Of course it only happens for a split second, but it's enough to let Matt know she's at least starting to get used to him. Foggy's scent rolls into his nose a second before Matt speaks again. His decently priced hair gel. The three day old suit. The half dozen people he bumped against getting here. Most importantly, Matt smells the large meat lovers pizza his friend has in his hand and the bottle of soda in the crook of his arm. _That settles the food problem_ , he thinks as a smile tugs up his mouth. _It's not that healthy, but it's something._

"My friend's here," he informs, finally realizing he probably should have told her earlier. "Not Claire. Another friend." As expected, the teen switches to panic mode again, starting with the accelerated heart rate. "Don't worry," he assures, holding his hands up to help her calm down. "He's harmless. Trust me, the guy couldn't hurt a fly."

Leslie responds by pulling her knees up as best she can and hugging them to her chest. Matt sighs through his nose and rubs his neck again, making his way to the door as Foggy does. Like he did with Claire, Matt opens the door before his friend knocks and makes him jump slightly. "Jesus, Murdoc!" the other man exclaims, nearly dropping the soda in his start. "Stop doing that!"

In the next room, Leslie jumps at Foggy's volume and her breathing kicks up again. Matt lifts a hand and waves his friend down. "Please calm down," he says tentatively, listening to Leslie's racing heart in the living room. "I have...uh... I have a...guest..."

Foggy's jaw hangs open slightly before a wide grin spreads across his face. "It was the sexy rough!" he declares proudly, shoving the bottle in Matt's hands and pushes past. "Ooooh, I have got to see this!"

Matt turns to grab Foggy before he scares Leslie even more, but he misses and his friend is down the hall. "Foggy, wait," he pleads, his voice going unheard.

"Hello, Ms-" Foggy starts as he crosses the doorway into the living room, his voice dying quickly at the sight of the cowering teen on the couch. Matt reaches his side just as Leslie's heart rate piques and she curls tighter into a ball, her entire body trembling as violently as the night before. "Uh...Matt?" the other man starts again, face never turning from Leslie. "Who's this?"

Matt runs a hand through his hair and releases an uneasy sigh. "Foggy," he starts, moving his hand from his hair and using it to motion to the teen. "This is Leslie. The guest I told you about..."

The other man nods and makes a thoughtful humming sound. "I assume she's what you meant by a rough night?" he concludes, using his free hand to indicate Leslie. Matt nods and Foggy makes a similar hum. "Well," he says, volume rising slightly and causing Leslie to flinch and curl tighter. Foggy must realize his mistake because his volume drops when he speaks next. "Does she like pizza?"

Matt shrugs and looks to Leslie. "Do you?" he asks, causing her to pause then shrug.

"Does she not talk?" Foggy asks, stepping forward slowly to set the pizza box on the table. Matt knows his friend must've picked up quickly on Leslie's anxiousness because he seems calmer than before. Matt is thankful for that fact, though Leslie is still extremely on edge. "Why doesn't she talk?" he says, taking a few steps away and turning his head to his friend.

Matt shrugs and steps forward, causing Leslie to twitch her head in his direction before turning back to her legs. "She never said," he responds, not needing sight to feel the 'no duh' look Foggy is giving him. "Claire got her to write a bit last night, but other than that..." Another shrug.

Foggy nods in understanding and turns his face back to the table. After half a second of looking, Foggy reaches down and grabs the slightly crumpled legal pad and still dull pencil from last night. He extends the objects in Leslie's direction, but pauses when she cringes back. "Hey," he says, tone softening as if speaking to a wounded animal. "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna talk, okay?"

Leslie gnaws on the inside of her cheek for a moment and Foggy waits patiently, though Matt can feel the slight strain that forms in his friend's arm after a while. The wait ends when Leslie unwraps a shaky arm from her legs and accepts the offerings. Foggy grins widely and steps back beside Matt. "Great," he says, nudging Matt toward the other couch and sitting down. "Now, let's get started..."

Over the next twenty minutes, Matt finds that Foggy is way better at connecting with Leslie than he would've thought. Which is what he should've expected in the first place he guesses. Foggy has always been better at working with people being the easy going person he is. Matt wonders of he should've called Foggy earlier. She doesn't relax as much as Matt would like, but her heart and breathing rate has slowed down to her normal range. Foggy even got her to eat a slice and a half of pizza and drink half a cup of soda. Of course she had to drink some water after, but Foggy got it done without a hitch, other than her normal sipping routine.

Foggy always kept his questions light and basic, which helped keep Leslie calm. They found out her favorite color is lilac and she doesn't like red. She hasn't really eaten enough to decide a favorite food but she hates oatmeal. She doesn't really have a favorite drink, but she didn't really prefer the orange soda Foggy brought. No specific music choice. Never watched TV. Soon Foggy runs out of small talk questions and just talks, retelling the butcher story and recounting some of their college day stories.

The blind man listens to his friend crack terrible jokes and laugh mostly by himself, but occasionally Matt laughs or Leslie's mouth twitches with an involuntary smile. Of course she tenses for a negative reaction every time, but Matt takes the smile as a good sign. He can tell she's relaxing a bit more now that the air is lighter. Matt himself feels better now that Foggy is here. The terrified teen made him uneasy and he can tell she felt the same about him. She has seen him in action, so Matt kind of understand why. It's not everyday a blind man wearing your least favorite color breaks in and saves you from a human trafficking ring.

Foggy's phone vibrates in his pocket, but he's too busy laughing at his own joke to notice. "Foggy," Matt says, apparently too quiet to be heard. Matt lifts an arm and waves his hand in front of Foggy's face. "Hey," he says again, this time managing to get his friend's attention. "Your phone."

"What?" the other man says, wiping a laughter induced tear from his eye before feeling his phone in his coat. "Oh!" The sudden rise in volume makes Leslie flinch and Foggy winces in apology. "Hello?" he says into the receiver, just loud enough to be heard.

"Foggy," Matt hears Karen say on the other end, a mild distress taking place of her usual chipperness. _"You said you'd be a little late! Where are you?"_

"Matt's house," Foggy replies simply. "What's going on?"

 _"We have a client!"_ Karen whispers loudly. _"An actual, paying client but no one is here with her!"_

Foggy jumps to his feet and makes Leslie cringe away at the sudden movement. The second man gives another apology wince as he grabs and puts on the suit jacket he took off half an hour ago. "Shit," he hisses, earning another involuntary flinch from Leslie. "I totally forgot! I'll be right there."

 _"What about Matt?"_

Foggy pauses with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. "Matt's..." he starts, turning slightly to look at Matt over his shoulder. The blind man frowns slightly and Foggy does the same, finishing pulling his jacket on and holding his phone normally in his hand. "Matt's sick," he lies, voice convincing as he starts for the front door. "That's why I came over. I need to check on him."

 _"That's sweet,"_ Karen replies. _"Tell him I hope he feels better, but please hurry. The client is really anxious."_

"I'll be there as soon as possible," he replies, stopping at the door to turn and face Matt. "See you in a bit." He receives a quick farewell from Karen before hanging up and shoving his phone in his pocket with a sigh. "That should give you a few days," he says through a smile. "Take care of her, okay? She seems like a good kid."

Matt smiles and nods a few times in response. "Yeah," he agrees. "She does. I will."

Foggy smiles and places a hand on the door knob. "I'll try to stop by again," he informs as twists the knob and pulls the door open. "I think she likes me."

The blind man laughs and steps forward. "I think she does," he agrees again, causing his friend to laugh with him. "See you later."

A single, sarcastic chuckle pushes up from Foggy's core as he exits. "That'll be the day," he says through his laughs. "Bye, man."

Matt waves once more and sighs happily, feeling better than he has all week. With the spiking crime rate and now Leslie, the all around heaviness of his nighttime career was starting to take its toll on his mental health. The non-business meeting with Foggy is just what he needed to clear his mind and reset his senses. They're not completely back to his version of normal, but it's close enough and he doesn't taste every tiny particle that makes up the dust in the air. He counts it as a small victory and nudges the door closed once Foggy descends the second flight of stairs.

"Hey, Leslie," he says, turning and starting back for the living room. The teen jumps before he reaches the room and turns her head slightly in his direction. From the way her head is tilted, Matt assumes she's either looking at him from the corner of her eye, or just listening better. "Are you tired?"

The teen simply shakes her head. Matt smothers a yawn and crosses the floor to his bed. "I'm going to nap, okay? Wake me up if you need anything." Leslie nods again and Matt sits on his bed. "The bathroom's down the hall if you need that and the rest of the pizza's on the table if you want it." Another nod from Leslie and Matt lies down, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and turning to the side. "Night," he mumbles before drifting off more quickly than last night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello my readers (if anyone's still here)! I'm sorry for the late update but this has not been my week. I've been busy and lazy and unmotivated and just not myself. So I've made the executive decision that since I'm working on three fics at the same time, I am going to post every two weeks instead of every week. Not only does it not stress me, but it gives me time to actually plan what I'm doing with each fic more. So yeah! Enough of my words! Onto the chapter!**

 **I own nothing!**

Matt is yanked back to consciousness by the sound of screaming. Loud, terror-filled wails that vibrate in Matt's ears and sends his heightened senses over the edge. He covers his ears in a poor attempt at blocking out the sound, trying to push his other senses out to find out what's going on. The screams are overwhelming, however, and he can barely process anything over it. He can hear the violent thrashing on the couch, though, so his mind automatically turns to Leslie.

He sits up and practically leaps off the bed, still clutching his ears as he makes his way to the source of the screams. "Leslie!" he says once he reaches her side, uncovering his ears to reach out for her. "Leslie!"

He manages to grab one of her wrists, but that only sends her into an even more violent panic. Her thrashing kicks up and she pulls her hand back, kicking out with her cast covered leg to push Matt back. The blind man narrowly manages to jump away from the attack before the cast whooshes by the area he just occupied. He hears the broken leg bone crunch and grind when it passes by, and the scent of blood is stronger than it was earlier, leading Matt to believe that she's reopening the wounds Claire closed last night.

"Leslie!" he calls again, reaching out and taking a firmer hold on her wrists when he grabs them a second time. "Leslie! Calm down!"

The teen attempts to pull away again but Matt tightens his grip, causing her screams to choke out and die in her throat. All at once, her fighting stops and she falls limp, all signs of previous struggling gone. Her heart's still pounding in her chest and her breathing is erratic, so Matt decides it's a hard learned defense technique.

The thought hits hard and Matt releases her wrist, allowing her arms to drop haphazardly wherever they do. "Leslie," he tries again, struggling to keep his voice even instead of flooded with worry. "Leslie breathe. It's okay. You're okay." No response, save the labored breathing and pounding heart that always make sound, at least in Matt's ears.

"Leslie," he says again, taking a hesitant step backwards. "Les-"

Claire is here. Her scent was overwhelmed when he was in close range of Leslie's blood, but now he can detect faint traces of her perfume and the hospital as she makes her way up the stairs. Matt almost releases a deep sigh of relief, but decides he might scare Leslie with the sudden noise. "Claire's here," he informs, earning a sharp inhale from Leslie in response. He opens his mouth to continue, but shuts it when he comes up short.

Claire knocks on the door a few seconds later and it takes all Matt has not to sprint to answer. He nearly rips the door off the hinges when he opens it and makes Claire jump with the energy. "I think Leslie's having another attack," he informs, earning the practical nurse response from Claire. The relaxed muscles. The straightened back. The tightened jaw. She almost knocks Matt backwards when she shoves her bag in his hands and moves forward.

"Leslie," she says gently when she reaches the living room threshold. "Hey sweetie. It's okay, baby." Matt follows as she reaches Leslie's side and crouches down. The nurse presses the back of her hand to Leslie's forehead, but the teen doesn't respond. No tension. No change in breathing. Not even flinching away from the contact. Matt clenches a fist when he realizes how bad whatever happened with the Russians actually was. If shutting down on this level is a defense technique, he doesn't want to know what the attack was.

"She's burning up," Claire mutters, shifting her hand to rest on Leslie's neck. "Matt. Get me a cold rag or something," she instructs, pulling the blanket off Leslie and tossing it aside. "It's okay, baby. Breathe."

Matt sets the bag on the coffee table and does as told, walking to the hall closet to retrieve a washcloth. He runs it under cold water in the bathroom and returns when it's cold and damp. He taps Claire's shoulder twice and hands her the rag, placing it in her hand as she soothes Leslie. The nurse gently dabs Leslie's face, head, and neck with the rag, continuously reminding her that she's safe and to breathe deeply.

After what feels like an hour, Leslie does calm down slightly, breathing still rapid but more evened out and heart rate lowered considerably. Matt knows that both are still well above healthy levels, but they never seem to lower to those levels. "Better?" Claire asks, helping Leslie sit up. The teen doesn't respond, only clasps her hands together in her lap to try and stop the harsh trembling. "I guess not..." Claire answers herself, shifting to turn to Matt. "Could you cool this down again?" she asks, extending the half-folded rag to the vigilante.

It takes a second for Matt to process that she was talking to him, so he jumps a bit when Claire repeats his name. "Oh," he says, taking the lukewarm cloth from his friend to start back to the bathroom. He knows he's moving mechanically, he can feel it. Every fiber of his being stiffly shifts from one form to the next as he as he walks -or marches, he can't tell- down the hall and turns into the bathroom.

Claire passes an excuse to Leslie then stands and follows Matt down the hall. "You're scaring Leslie," she informs from the bathroom doorway, voice barely coming over a whisper but ringing clear in Matt's ears. "She sees your nerves and it's making her nervous."

Matt runs the washcloth under the cold water for about a minute before turning off the tap and wringing it out. "I'm sorry," he says, resting both hands on the counter. "This is just too much." Claire's face shifts so that an eyebrow is raised and she waits for Matt to continue. "The way I found her... The constant pounding heartbeat... The way she can't be spoken to without...leaping out of her skin. She's so fragile and I don't think I can handle it..."

Claire pauses at his confession, mouth gaping slightly in search of the right words. "I understand," she settles after a moment. "It is a lot to handle, especially with everything else you probably have to deal with." She steps forward and rests a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Maybe...it's time to turn her over to the authorities?"

Matt shakes his head and turns to face her. "She won't go," he states, taking her hand and lowering it to her side. "She already said no to anything I suggested except coming here." He inhales deeply and tries to relax himself. "I can't do this, Claire. It's been one night and a day and I already feel more stressed than ever."

"Matt-"

"I can't turn her over Claire," he says, tightening his grip with the words. "Who knows what'll happen to her if I do."

"Matt-"

"And I can't keep her here," he continues, becoming more anxious as he presses on. "Her heart is...constantly pounding. Loudly at that-"

"Matthew," Claire whispers loudly, stopping Matt before he can go any further. "You're hurting my hand." It takes another second to register before Matt realizes he's holding Claire's hand tight enough to grind the bones together before he jumps slightly and lets go. The nurse exhales in relief and rubs her sore hand with her other one. "Thank you," she breathes before her breath shifts to talk again. "You're being too loud, and I'm pretty sure you just squeezed all the water out of that washcloth."

Matt freezes, any type of response dying on his tongue as he registers he's been tuning out everything around him to rant. He breathes out slowly and allows all his senses to return to him. The sound of Leslie's pounding racing heart comes first, followed by the fabric shifting of her violent trembling. "Shit," he breathes in regret. "I think she heard me..."

"I probably could've told you that," Claire responds, releasing her sore hand and letting them both fall to her sides. "Look, I know you want what's best for Leslie. But you have to think about what's best for you, too. You can't get so invested in her health you forget about your own." She pauses and sighs deeply. "So what are you going to do?"

Matt releases a similar heavy breath and shakes his head. "I don't know," he replies honestly. "She won't go to any authority figure... Maybe the church? I'm sure Father Lantom and the sisters would shelter her as long as she needs."

"That's a bit risky, Matt," Claire states hesitantly. "Couldn't some of the Russians be religious. If they recognize her-"

"I'll explain the situation to him," Matt says. "Maybe he can keep her in one of the rooms in the back and have a sister with her. They'll probably be more help to her than I could."

Claire nods in thought and reaches out, grabbing the rag from his hand and moving passed him to the sink. "If that's what's best for both of you," she says, running the cloth under the cold tap water. Matt knows she doesn't believe it herself, but he decides to let it slide. He doesn't even know if he can go through with it. "When are you going to move her?"

"Soon," he replies, placing a hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to the church tonight to run it by the Father."

"Tonight?" the nurse asks, turning off the tap and wringing the excess water from the cloth. "You're going out tonight?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You have Leslie for one," Claire responds, turning to face him. "And two, you're getting too involved in her. You go out like you are and you're not just patrolling. You're out for blood."

Matt sighs again and turns his head away. "I know," he says through his huff. "But I have to go. They'll try again with another kid, maybe younger than her. I can't let that happen."

Claire hums in thought then nods. "That still leaves Leslie for tonight," she reminds. "I can't take her, I have work."

"Then how come you're here?" Matt asks with a raised eyebrow.

Claire laughs slightly and brushes past him on the way out. "It's not that late, Matt," she informs, causing Matt to swipe his fingers over the open watch face on his wrist. Eight thirty two. Not bad. "I thought I'd stop by here first. See how everything's going."

Matt smiles as he follows his friend down the hall. "Well, she's here," he answers lightly, starting to feel his tension leaving again. "There's only so good it can go."

Claire laughs quietly and slows her pace when she gets back to the living room. Other than her now extended legs, Leslie hasn't moved since they left. Matt can tell that her reopened wounds are getting to her, the repeated tensing and relaxing of her muscles makes that obvious. The smell of blood has also gotten stronger, allowing him to smell it as soon as he walked into the room rather than getting close. A passing thought wanders to the state of his couch, but he pushes it aside to focus on the more pressing matter.

Claire lowers herself onto the couch beside Leslie and begins dabbing her face with the washcloth. "Sorry, baby," she says, still not earning a response from the teen. "Matt and I had things to discuss."

Matt takes a seat on the opposite couch and clasps his hands together on his lap. "Yeah," he says, bouncing his leg anxiously. "We were talking about you actually..." Claire snaps her head to face him and he doesn't need sight to know the look she's giving him, but he sighs heavily and continues on. "Leslie...I'm sorry, but...you can't stay here..." He waits for a reaction, but earns none. Not even the usual sharp inhale that comes from just saying her name.

He passes a look to Claire that hopefully reads desperate before continuing. "I have a friend at the church who might be able to help. Father Lantom. He's the one who helped me when my dad... Anyway, I can talk to him tonight and get you moved tomorrow, but I don't know if you want to be left alone when I go." Still no response. "Shit..."

That finally earns a single flinch as response. It's small, but it lets Matt know she's not completely unresponsive. It also lets him know that she's still sensitive about bad language. Claire turns her head to him again and he shrugs an awkward apology. She shakes her head and sighs through her nose. "So where's she going?" the nurse asks, refolding the rag to the colder side and continuing to dab Leslie.

"I gotta make a call," he informs, rising and turning to his bed. "Maybe Foggy can take her for the night. He seemed to like her. More importantly, she seemed to like him."

Claire nods and sets the washcloth on the table beside the bag. "That's good," she says distractedly, finally shifting to attend to Leslie's wounds. "Alright, baby, I need to see your leg."

Matt decides he can't really help here anymore, so he walks to his nightstand, grabs his normal phone, and walks back down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, he sits down on the edge of the tub and dials the only number he memorized. It rings twice before his friend answers.

 _"I was just about to call you,"_ Foggy answers, grunting slightly as he shifts something on the other end. _"I'm on the way over. Karen made some tea for you since you're supposed to be sick, so I thought Leslie would like it."_

Matt smiles at his friend's thoughtfulness and nods. "I think she would, too," he replies. "But I was calling for a favor."

 _"What's up?"_

Matt sighs through his nose and his face falls slightly. "Can you watch Leslie for the night?" he asks, lifting his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I have to talk to Father Lantom and Claire has to work..."

 _"Yeah, sure,"_ Foggy says, shifting the object again. _"What do you need to talk to the Father about?"_

The blind man sighs again, this time into the receiver instead of throug his nose. "I'll explain in the morning," he says tiredly, moving his hand from his nose to run through his hair. "I'll see you soon, Foggy."

 _"If you say so,"_ Foggy says, suspicion and concern easing into his tone. _"Later, man."_

Matt says his second round of farewells before removing the phone and hitting end. He moves both hands back to his lap and sighs, feeling his previous tension slipping back into his being. He knows it's the best thing to do for both himself and Leslie, but something inside doesn't feel right.

"Damn it, Murdoc," he mutters to himself, listen to Claire and Leslie interact in the other room. "Not even two days in and you get emotionally involved... How did you manage to mess up like that?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello readers! As you can ssee, I updated and it hasn't been two weeks! That's because I have made a second set of executive decisions! I have decided to post whenever I feel like it as long as it doesn't exceed a two week waiting period (unless something big comes up in which case I'll tell you first). I also made the decision that I need for and that I'm going to get something (probably lasagna). Anyhow thank you for the readers, followers, favorites, and reviewers! I love you all! Anyhow, into the chapter!**

 **I own nothing!**

Foggy reaches the block twenty minutes after he hangs up with Matt. Since they did hang up, Matt remained in the bathroom. Claire didn't seem to need help with Leslie in the living room and he needed a breather to get his senses back in check, so he just stayed on the side of the bathtub and waited until he was needed. That instant seems to be now.

The blind man pushes himself from the ledge and groans, legs and back stiff from remaining still for as long as he did. Of course that could be from reopening some old wounds or the poorly reset ribs that grind when he moves. Either way, he hurts.

His senses must've returned to somewhat normalcy because the scent of Leslie's blood doesn't smack him in the face when he opens the door. Either that, or Claire made sure to clean up everything so it didn't overwhelm him. Whatever the case, he thanks every Saint in heaven for the tiny miracle.

He pads his way down the hall and the blood scent starts to make its way into his nose. The smells of strong disinfectants and medical pads comes next, so he knows Claire took extra care in redoing her work. He refocuses on Leslie's heart and breathing rate when he enters the living room, having tuned it out when he fled to the bathroom. It's still considerably over the healthy rate for any age, but it slowed down more since Claire's cleaned her up.

The nurse lifts her head when Matt enters and her breathing changes to speak. "Leslie apologized for waking you up," she informs as he walks to the kitchen. "She said she must have fallen asleep and had a nightmare. She screamed because she thought it was real."

Matt's eyebrows pull together in confusion as he grabs a knob to a cabinet and pulls it open. "She told you?" he asks as he reaches for two glasses. "As in...told you told you?"

Claire shakes her head and lifts up the notepad. "Wrote it," she clarifies as Matt fills up each glass with water from the tap. "She came back a few minutes after you went to the bathroom. Her hand stopped shaking long enough to get that down."

Matt nods in acknowledgement and walks into the living room with an almost full glass of water in each hand. "It's alright," he says, addressing Leslie as he hands her one of the glasses. The teen jumps when spoken to, but accepts the water with a still slightly shaking hand. "I get it." He hands the other glass to Claire then starts for the door as Foggy starts up the last flight of stairs. "Foggy's here," he announces as Leslie takes a sip of her water.

Claire opens her mouth and starts putting stuff back in her medical bag. "I should go," she states, setting out a few boxes and bottles as puts away needles and other materials. "Foggy, you, the Father, or anyone else she shelters with can have that stuff."

"Thank you, Claire," he says over his shoulder as he opens the door for Foggy. "Hey, Foggy."

The other man smiles widely and extends his arms, hand over the large object he kept shifting over the phone. "Claire's here?" he asks as Matt accepts the four-foot fluffy toy. "Sweet! I was starting to miss her."

Foggy brushes past Matt on his way inside, leaving the blind man standing confused in the doorway. "What's this?" he asks, holding the object at arm's length like it might bite him. He doesn't receive a reply, instead hearing Foggy and Claire make small talk in the living room. Matt sighs through his nose and follows his friend back in, kicking the door closed as he turns. "Foggy," he says, reaching the living room and causing two heads to turn to him. "What is this?"

Claire smiles and rises from her seat beside Leslie. "Is that a teddy bear?" she inquires happily, glancing from the object to the now grinning Foggy. "Why?"

He sits down on the other couch and motions to Leslie. "For her," he says, setting his briefcase in his lap and opening it. "I figured that everyone needs something soft to hold when they get sad or scared. So when I saw that guy in the window, I had to get it." He removes his hand from his case and reveals a large, still hot thermos of green tea. From the smell of it, Karen must have brewed it right before Foggy left in order to ensure the heat. "Karen sent this," he says as Matt smiles and Claire raises an eyebrow. "Oh! It's tea," he clarifies, earning an approving nod from the nurse in response. "We told her Matt was sick so he could take care of Leslie for the day."

"Good," she says, shifting her bag to her shoulder and starting to the door. "I have to run. My shift starts in thirty minutes. It was nice seeing you, Foggy."

"You too, Claire," the other lawyer says with a wave and a smile. The door opens and shuts after a few seconds and Claire is gone. "So," he says, setting the tea on the table and resting his elbows on his knees. "Ready to move?"

Matt shakes his head and walks to Leslie's couch, setting the giant bear on the opposite end of the couch and reaching for the thermos. "I'm not letting you two walk to your house by yourself," he explains, unscrewing the top and pouring some of the liquid in. "I'm going to get ready," he says, handing the small, warm cup to Leslie while taking the water cup and setting it on the table. "We'll leave in ten minutes."

"Is that how long it takes for you to get in the suit?" Foggy asks through a laugh. "I knew it was tight but I thought you would've gotten used to it by now."

Matt manages a few small laughs at his friend's joke before shaking his head. "No," he says, walking to his closet and opening the door. "It's not that. I need to find something better for Leslie to wear."

Foggy purses his lips and nods in understanding. "Ah," he says as Matt opens the closest and crouches for his uniform. "Anyhow, Leslie," he says, redirecting his attention to the teen on the couch. The teen flinches slightly at the sudden acknowledgement and tightens her grip on the cup. "Are you ready to spend the night at my place? We can watch movies and eat popcorn and..."

Matt loses interest in the conversation quickly and tunes out, only focusing on Leslie's heart and breathing for any signs of trouble. He grabs is uniform from its usual place and stands, walking to the bathroom to change. Once dressed, he secures his batons in place and goes back to the living room. Leslie's heart rate jumps suddenly when he steps in, but it returns to her normal levels when she realizes it's him.

Foggy, on the other hand, stops talking and frowns in Matt's direction. "I still think the horns are a bit much," he says, earning a few laughs from Matt as he walks to his dresser.

"Tell that to my stylist," he retorts, listening as Leslie finishes her first cup of tea. He rifles through his drawers for something suitable for Leslie, but doesn't find anything he thinks would fit her. He settles on a pair of well worn jeans and an old button down shirt. He also pauses to grab a pair of socks from the top drawer and moves to grab a pair of his shoes from under the bed. "Here," he says, moving from under the bed and approaching Leslie. "You can go to the bathroom and change into this. I'll make-" He pauses at his sentence and frowns, inhaling deeply before handing her the clothes. "Father Lantom and the sisters..." he corrects as Leslie holds the cup in one hand and takes the clothes with the other. "They'll get you something better to wear."

Leslie nods and lowers the clothes to her lap, moving the cup to the table before rising. She eases by Matt and walks down the hall, limping harshly from the new cast on her broken leg. Once the door closes, Foggy rises. "It's like she didn't even notice the bear," he says, motioning to the toy on the couch.

"She noticed it," Matt informs, recapping the thermos and passing it back to his friend. "She moved a bit closer to it when I set it down. I think she likes it."

Foggy grins and throws his hands up in joy. "So it wasn't a complete waste," he declares, causing Matt to smile at his enthusiasm. His arms drop and he haphazardly tosses the container back into his briefcase. "Now we just have to haul it back to my place at night while avoiding muggers, murderers, and the Russian human trafficking ring." He claps his hands together and sighs. "Did I miss anything?"

Matt frowns at the almost forgotten details of the plan and sighs through his nose. "Just let me handle that," he says, keeping half his attention focused for any mishaps in the bathroom. "I'll monitor you two from the shadows and rooftops. If anything comes up, I'll redirect you two and take care of it before Leslie notices."

Foggy shrugs and closes his briefcase. "Sounds like a plan," he says, grabbing the handle of his case once he closes it and moves to the bear. He grabs the giant stuffed animal by the arm and shifts it to hold it around its midsection. "Where's Leslie?"

Matt pauses to listen to the bathroom. "She's almost done," he informs, tuning out again and refocusing on their conversation. "She's having trouble getting the pants on over her cast."

Foggy nods in understanding, turning to face the hallway. "Should we..."

"No," Matt says with a curt shake of his head. "She got it." The bathroom door opens and Leslie limps out, walking close to the wall for support on her bad side. The shoes clomp loudly on the hardwood and flop off her feet with each step, but they're the only thing they have. Both men turn to look at her and she freezes, tensing harshly but otherwise not moving. "Ready?" he asks gently, causing the teen to jump again.

After a second, the teen nods and relaxes the death grip she held on the other clothes. Foggy nods in agreement and shifts the animal again. "Great," he says before turning to Matt. "Lead the way, Matty."

Much to Matt's surprise, the trip through Hell's Kitchen went down without a hitch. No muggers got too close for comfort, despite the large, very conspicuous teddy bear Foggy toted down the street. No Russian scouts roamed the streets. Just the occasional drunk, couple, or late night street performer. Of course there's the normal late night travelers, lonely souls, and people who are just getting off work, but Matt doesn't count them because he doesn't seem them as threats.

Matt leaves not long after Foggy and Leslie get in, only staying to make sure Leslie isn't going to panic out within the first five minutes of being there. But once Foggy puts a movie into the DVD player, he decides there's no point for him to be there and that Foggy has everything under control. So he leaves to complete the next item on his agenda.

The church isn't that far from Foggy's house, at least not how Matt travels. He drops from the fire escape from the building across the street and makes his way to the church, careful to stick as close to the shadows as possible. He pauses at the front door and listens, not surprised to hear silence on the inside.

The vigilante pads his way around to the housing area of the building, pausing to listen at each window for the Father. After three windows, Matt successfully locates Father Lantom in his room, still awake and kneeling beside his bed in prayer. Feeling uneasy about interrupting the sacred moment, Matt waits the five minutes it takes for the Father to finish praying before tapping on the glass.

Father Lantom jumps, of course, but soon realizes where the disturbance originated and walks to the window. Matt steps back as the Father pushes the barrier away. "It's a bit late for a latte, Matthew," he says, voice tired but as patient as Saint. "But if it's this important, I guess we can go to the confessionals."

Matt smiles and shakes his head, taking a step forward to be in the light. "It's not that, Father," he explains. "I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I was wondering if I could ask for a favor."

The Father pauses for a moment in thought and sighs. "Again," he says, stepping aside to allow Matt entry room. "If it's this important..."

Matt nods in appreciation and lightly hops in the window. "Thank you, Father," he says, pulling his mask off to speak to him face to face.

Father Lantom shakes his head and makes his way back to his bed. "No need for that, Matthew," he says humbly as he sits down on the edge. "Now. What is this favor you need to ask at nearly ten at night?"

Matt sighs through his nose and walks to the corner, lowering himself into the small, wooden chair that occupies that space. "It's not that long a story," he starts slowly, choosing his words carefully under the Father's look. "I...found...this girl. More like a...young woman. She's nineteen years old and, from what I can assume, she just turned nineteen not that long ago."

"Does this young woman have a name?" Father Lantom questions, resting his hands in his lap.

Matt nods. "Leslie," he responds. "But she doesn't know her last name." He earns an understanding nod from Father Lantom before he motions for Matt to continue. Matt nods again and clasps his hands together in his lap. "I...found her...with a member of the Russian human trafficking ring last night..." The Father's breathing hitches at the mention, causing Matt to pause until he's motioned to continue. "She was being beaten in an apartment a few blocks from here. I don't know how long she's been with them, but from how he was talking to her..." His grip on his hands tighten. "Jesus how he talked to her..."

"Language," the Father interrupts as he always does.

Matt nods an apology and continues after earning an approval nod from Father Lantom. "I got there just before the next buyer came to get her. She refused to go to any authority figure or the hospital to take care of her...injuries... But she went to my house almost without a fight... I had a friend come over and patch her up and another friend is watching her while I'm here..."

There's a pause where Matt thinks about what to say next. "I take it there's a 'but' coming up?" Father Lantom inquires, earning a confirming nod from the vigilante in response.

"But..." he starts before signing. "I can't...keep her...with me," he explains. "She seems like she's a good kid... But Jesus-"

"Language," Lantom states again.

"Sorry," Matt says before continuing. "I think her damage is more psychological than anything. She's so...terrified...of everything. Her heart rate is way above normal levels. Same with her breathing rate. She's always at the point just before a panic attack it seems and she's always... waiting for punishment. As if it's normal for her to be abused for needing basic human requirements. She hasn't even said a thing since she's gotten here-"

"Matthew," the Father says, holding up a hand to stop him. The blind man pauses and takes a breath, finally realizing he was ranting. Father Lantom nods in approval and his breath shifts to speak. "It sounds like you're worried about her well being," he starts wisely. "But it also sounds like you doubt your abilities to care for her." Matt hesitates then nods in confirmation. "I take it this is where the favor comes in?"

Matt nods in confirmation again. "Could you take her in, Father?" he asks. "Keep her in one of the rooms back here and help her get better."

Father Lantom pauses, making Matt assume that he's pondering the request. "Matthew," he says again, causing Matt to rub his hands together nervously. "Is that really what's best for her?"

The question throws Matt off. "Of course," he says, sounding mildly insincere even to himself. "I mean, you took me in when my father...passed."

"That's because you needed spiritual guidance," Lantom responds. "When your father died, you were confused and angry and you needed something to hold on to for stability. Leslie sounds hurt in a way spiritual guidance alone won't be able to fix. It'll definitely help, but I honestly doubt it'll do all the work."

"Then what do I do, Father?" Matt almost pleads. "I can't help her-"

"Yes," Lantom says calmly, stopping Matt before he starts ranting again. "You can. Matthew, God put her with you for a reason. If you weren't meant to find her when you did, He wouldn't have put her in a place where you could have. He knows you're able to help her, Matthew. He can see that your heart is in the right place, and that you are genuinely concerned about this young woman. He sees that you have every intention of keeping her safe and helping her work through whatever may have happened to her in the past, and I'm assuming that others are as well since she's not here right now. So the question isn't whether you're able to help her, Matthew. It's whether or not you're willing to?"

The Father's words ring true in Matt's ears, as does his continuously steady heart beat. He honestly believes that Matt's able to take care of Leslie and that God does as well. And he's right. God put Leslie in his care for a reason and he can't really deny God's will. Plus it would haunt him forever if he does leave Leslie in the church care and a religious Russian recognize her and drags her back.

With that thought in mind, the vigilante's path is clear and he nods once. "I am," he says, sitting up straighter and looking directly at the Father. "I'm going to take care of Leslie."

Father Lantom smiles and nods, rising to his feet and causing Matt to do the same. "I knew you would," he says in approval, crossing the floor to stand in front of Matthew. "I'm here to help in any way I can."

"Thank you, Father," Matt replies, extending a grateful hand and clasping the Father's. "I'm going to need all the help I can get."

"Of course," Father Lantom says, releasing Matt's hand and starting toward the window. "Any time. Just...please come in through the door next time."

Matt laughs lightly at the Father's half joke and stops when he does beside the window. "Yes, Father," he says with a nod. "But can I ask one more favor from you before I leave?"

Father Lantom nods and turns to face him. "Of course," he responds.

"Foggy has her for tonight since I'm...working... But I have no one to watch her tomorrow when I actually have to work. I don't think she can handle being left alone for too long yet. Do you think she could..."

The other man nods once more. "Of course," Father Lantom says. "I'll have Sister Olivia look after her. Just let me know if this is going to be a regular thing. I need to make sure the kitchen has enough snacks for the visits."

Matt smiles gratefully and hops out the window. "Thank you again, Father," he says, turning to nod at him. "I'll bring her around ten if that's alright." Lantom gives another confirmation and Matt nods, pulling his mask back up and over his face. "Thank you, Father."

"Any time, Matthew."

With one more finalizing nod, Matt turns and hurries down the alley, quickly leaping up onto the fire escapes and taking to to rooftops. Now that that's taken care of and his mind is set, he can focus fully on the main target. Taking down the Russian trafficking ring. He assumed that once Vladimir and Anatoly died, they would shut down. Of course he should've known that someone else would've taken over not long after.

 _Step one,_ he thinks as he stops to listen to the sounds of the city below him. _Find new trafficking boss. Step two. Take it out. Somewhere in there, help Leslie. Easy._

A woman's scream pulls his attention to the left, forcing his senses into overdrive to get the full scenario. One woman. Early to late twenties. Terrified. Fighting. Attempting to fight at least. But she's starting to get tired.

The attacker is much stronger than her. Fuller. Armed. Definitely part of the trafficking ring. He's growing impatient with the struggle. Perfect. Impatience makes mistakes. The vigilante takes off at a sprint toward the sound, leaping from rooftop to rooftop to reach her before things get worse.

It's time to start step one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello readers! I don't know if I'm late or not, but I know I've been busy. And unmotivated. And nervous. But here it is!**

 **To the guest who said it was hard to believe Matt was blind because of things, I'm sorry I didn't make it clear. In my mind it made perfect sense to write things the way I did. The way he tells if something is bruised in my mind is the skin moves differently than normal skin because of the clumped blood cells and broken blood vessels. The cuts are clear because of the way the broken skin moves around the normal skin. The TV show says he can tell when someone shakes or nod their head, so that's pretty obvious. But yeah. I'm sorry my mind wasn't clear.**

 **Anyhow onto the chapter! I still own nothing!**

Matt lets another brutal fist pass across his most recent victim's face. "We can do this all night," he says, slightly out of breath from the six other fights he's been in tonight. "Tell me who's in charge!" The Russian spits, a small piece of whatever was in his mouth landing on Matt's cheek. The vigilante frowns deeply and lets another fist fly, earning a satisfying crunch from the other man's nose. "Are you done?" he asks after a moment of pained moans. "Now. Unless you have anymore brilliant plans like that, I say the rest of this can go smoothly." He takes a handful of the Russian's hair and lifts his head to look at him. "Who's in charge of your human trafficking ring?"

"I don't know!" the man finally shouts, voice slurred from bloodied lips and a swollen jaw. "I just follow from my informant!"

Now he's getting somewhere. "Who's in charge of him?"

"I don't know!" he repeats. "I don't ask and he don't tell! I just follow his orders and we go smoothly!"

Matt pauses and listens, halfway surprised to find the man's heartbeat steady. As steady as it can be, anyway. He's telling the truth. Which means another dead end. Which means he's back to what he started with. Nothing.

The blind man releases an agitated sigh through his nose and turns away from the Russian. "Wait," he says as Matt takes a step forward. "Are you going to let me go?"

"Of course not," Matt states flatly. He hears the man's breathing change to speak, but Matt whips around and knocks him cold before he can. "You just aren't useful anymore." After reassuring himself that the Russian is unconscious, he walks behind him and makes sure he's still secured to the pole before turning and leaping onto the next building.

That's the fourth Russian tonight that had nothing to say about who's in charge. It was either they didn't know anything, or they was too loyal to say anything. Matt huffs in annoyance as he lands on another roof three buildings over. It may only be the first night, but he thought he would at least have something by now. Ah well. Tomorrow's another night and he has more time. For now, he just wants to get home and get to bed.

Matt turns in the direction of his house and gets ready to jump to the next building but pauses before he does. A thought crosses his mind and turns in another direction, having made the mental decision to go check on Foggy and Leslie before he heads home.

The trip across Hell's Kitchen doesn't take long and soon Matt ends up on Foggy's fire escape, his heightened senses already picking up on the inside of the apartment. The slight burn on the popcorn on the table. The loud explosions and swear words from whatever is on TV. Foggy's resting heartbeat and the sleeping one on the couch beside him.

That's not right. Sleeping? Leslie doesn't sleep. Steadily anyway. When she tried to sleep a few hours ago, her nightmares scared her awake. Why is she so calm now?

The blind man reaches out and lightly taps on the window in front of him, causing his friend to jump slightly and turn. "Matt?" he asks, rising from the couch to approach the window. Matt gives a sheepish smile in response as Foggy unlocks and opens the window. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how things were going," Matt replies, stepping inside when Foggy steps aside. "Is Leslie asleep?"

Foggy turns and looks at the sleeping girl on the couch. "Yeah," he says. "She didn't even make it to the best part in the movie. I look over to comment and she's out."

"And she stayed asleep the whole time?" Matt asks, keeping half of his attention on the sleeping teen on the couch.

"Yeah?" Foggy responds through a yawn. "Why? Was she not suppose to?"

Matt shakes his head. "Not that," he says. "When she was with me, she didn't sleep. Then when she did, her nightmares scared her into waking up."

"Oh," the second man responds, almost sounding like he regrets asking. "That sounds about right." He yawns deeply and stretches his arms over his head. "I think it's the bear," he says as he drops his arms back to his sides, voice a bit cheerier than a second ago. "She curled up with it once I set it down and she didn't move."

A small smile tugs up Matt's lips and he nods. "Told you she liked it," he says.

Foggy laughs slightly before he yawns. "Oh, how'd it go with the Father? Can Leslie stay with him?"

Matt shakes his head. "I'm not giving her up," he says with his own slight yawn. "She's staying with me."

"I could've told you that was going to happen," Foggy says. "No offense buddy, but you get way too attached way too quickly."

Matt laughs quietly and nods in agreement. "I know," he says through a smile. "Trust me." His smile turns sore and his split lip starts oozing, reminding him of the fights he got in earlier in the night. "Oh," he says, lifting a hand to cover the injury. "Can I use your bathroom to clean up a bit?"

Foggy nods and points down the hall on the left. "Go ahead," he says, earning a grateful nod from Matt in reply. "I'll get Leslie ready to go."

The other man shakes his head and pauses in the hallway entrance. "Let her sleep," he instructs, turning slightly to face him over his shoulder. "I'll swing by before work and pick her up then. Father Lantom said he'd watch her for the day so I'm going to drop her off."

Foggy nods again and takes his seat back on the couch, causing Leslie to jump slightly from the sudden action. She doesn't wake, though, assuring Matt that she's good for the rest of the night. He gives one more nod in Foggy's direction before turning back and walking down the hall. When he gets in the bathroom, he nudges the door closed and up his mask.

He could feel the swelling in his lip and cheek as soon as he got hit, but the aches and stings of the rest of his body just start to come forward now that he's settled. He winces slightly as the two split knuckles on his hand pull open as he turns on the sink. _Must've caught a tooth_ , he thinks tiredly as he fills both hands with water and runs them over his face. The action stings, but it's better than bleeding. So he does it again. And again. And again. Then he rinses the blood from his mouth and huffs.

He dries his face and hands on the clean towel on the rack and silently hopes he didn't leave any blood on it. Once he thinks he looks halfway presentable, he opens the door and walks back out. "Foggy," he calls quietly, listening for any changes in the area. "I'm heading-"

Faint snores. A second sleeping heartbeat. The small trail of drool that starts to form on the edge of his friend's mouth. Either he was in the bathroom for longer than he thought or Foggy was more tired than he picked up on. A tired sigh of his own falls past his lips and he steps over to the couch, grabbing one of the light blankets from the back of the couch and tosses it over his friend. Then a thought crosses his mind and he grabs the second one. He lightly drapes it over Leslie and pauses when she cringes and her heart rate jumps. It settles quickly and Matt exhales in relief, straightening and walking over to leave through the window.

###########

Foggy...Foggy...Foggy...Foggy...

Matt groans awake and sits up, biting back a pained hiss as his bruised body tenses at the action. He smacks the nightstand a couple times before hitting his phone, answering it, and putting it on speaker. "Yeah," he slurs, a coppery tinge coating his tongue. "Hello?"

"Leslie has no taste in drinks whatsoever," Foggy announces as soon as the line connects, earning a small, involuntary smile from Matt in response. "I gave her some grapefruit juice to try this morning, and she all but spit it across the room! How insane is that?"

"Not everybody has a taste for sour, Foggy," he says through his smile. "Did you get her to try anything else?"

"Uh," Foggy starts, "spray cheese. She likes that by the way. Uuhh... A few girl scout cookies. I think she had a jelly filled doughnut."

"So basically you've filled her with junk food?"

"Junk food that she loved," the other man replies. "Besides, Murdock, not everyone has a taste for health food."

Matt gives a few chuckles in response, then grunts when his bruised ribs ache. "I haven't introduced her to it yet," he explains, tossing the blanket off but barely feeling it move. "I'm sure she'll like it when I do."

"Uh huh," Foggy says skeptically. "I'm sure."

Matt raises an eyebrow. "Did she brush her teeth after all that junk?" he asks, earning a mock groan of annoyance from his friend.

"You're such a party crusher, Murdock!"

"Foggy?"

"Of course she brushed her teeth!" Foggy declares proudly. "I'm not a bad influence! I gave her the spare toothbrush I had under my sink!"

Matt smiles faintly and feels the scab over his lip start to split. "Good," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Thanks, Foggy. I'll be over to pick her up in a few."

"No rush," he says, setting something down on his end. "I'm telling Leslie about the plot of _Pirates of the Caribbean."_

"How is she?" he asks, finally realizing he fell asleep with his uniform on. "Has she-"

"She's really good," Foggy states. "She slept through the night. She's eating well. I even gave her a few books someone left behind."

Matt blinks a few times before speaking. "Really?" he questions. "How? She's always so nervous."

"She's still skittish," Foggy responds. "Really skittish. Like, she nearly jumped off the couch when I had to wake her up this morning." He pauses for something on the other end before speaking again. "But she's getting calmer."

"How?"

"I don't know," Foggy responds. "Maybe it's cause you're so damn tense all the time."

Matt pauses in thought. Foggy does have a point. In the short time he spent with Leslie, he did always tries to tip-toe around her to not scare her. Foggy just...is Foggy. He doesn't try to scare her, but he doesn't dance around her. Maybe he should take a lesson from him.

"Ah well," Foggy says, pulling Matt from his trail of thought. "I gotta go. Leslie just got out of the bathroom. I'll see you when you get here."

"Alright," Matt replies with an unseen nod as he pulls the mask off. "Bye Foggy."

He receives a finalizing farewell from his friend before disconnecting the line and rising from the bed. He groans tiredly as he stretches his arms over his head, then winces slightly as a bruise starts to ache. Once slightly more awake, he strips himself of his uniform and starts for the bathroom. Plans can restart tonight. For now, Matt needs to shower.

After a decently heated, probably longer than necessary shower, Matt shuts the water off and steps out. Most of his aches got worn out with the warmth of the water, so his movements are less stiff as he wraps himself in a towel and walks back to his room. He dries himself and pulls on some hopefully matching clothes. Once dressed, Matt pulls on his shoes and sunglass before gathering his other normal day belongings and starting for the door.

The trip back to Foggy's house is a bit more difficult in the daytime. The greasy scents of opening food trucks. The multiple phone conversations that need to be held as they walk. The obviously distracted tourists that have to take pictures of everything. Crying babies with dirty diapers. Hungry dogs tied to poles outside of restaurants. Car exhaust. Rushing commuters. Road work. Matt's almost surprised he didn't have a breakdown before he hit the doorstep.

He knocks on the door and listens as Foggy pads to the door, tossing trivial piece of _Pirates_ information over his shoulder before opening the door. "Matty!" he declares happily, throwing his arms up in childlike enthusiasm in a way that makes Matt smile.

"Hey, Foggy," Matt says, less enthusiasm than his friend but still happy. "Is Leslie ready?"

"Yeah," the second man says, stepping aside to let him in. "I just have to get her bag."

Matt furrows his eyebrows in confusion and follows Foggy as he walks to the living room. "Bag?"

Foggy nods in confirmation and motions to the couch. "I told you I gave her some books, right?" he asks as Leslie flips a page of the book she has. "Well, I had a lot more than I thought. Oh and I found some of Candace's old clothes. Leslie fit them so I gave them to her. I figured it would be better than wearing your stuff."

Matt nods in agreement and he steps toward Leslie, who looks up when he reaches the coffee table. "Hey," he says as Foggy heads to his room. He earns a silent nod from Leslie in reply as he moves to sit on the other end of the couch. "How was your night?" The teen nods and lifts a slightly trembling hand in a thumbs up. Matt smiles and nods in approval. "I thought you'd like it here. I'm taking you to the church today. I'll get you after work and you'll be staying with me."

"Here we go," Foggy says, returning from the room with a decent sized bag. "Leslie's stuff. I put her toothbrush in there too. I almost forgot."

Matt smiles gratefully and rises from the couch. "Thanks, Fog," he says, taking the bag from his friend as Leslie stands. "I'll see you at the office."

"No way man," Foggy says with a quick shake of the head as he grabs his briefcase. "I'm coming with you to the church. I wanna see Leslie off to school on the first day."

The blind man laughs and shakes his head as they start for the door. "It's church, Foggy," he says as he listens to the door open. "Not school."

"It is a church," Foggy says, holding the door open as Matt steps through. "You're going to learn something whether you want to or not."

Matt laughs again and waits for Leslie across the hallway as she exits in front of Foggy. "I hate to say you're right..." he says while Foggy locks his door. "Ready?"

Foggy nods and holds out his arms expectantly. "Waiting on you Murdock. Let's go."


	7. Chapter 7

**Whos still here, raise your hand? Sorry for the late update my people! I got a job and it eats up all my time. I'll try to update more often, but I can't make any promises. Anyhow! Thanks to everyone who's still here and yeah! Onto the chapter! It may be a bit shorter, but its something! I'll try to make the next one longer!**

 **I own nothing!**

Once again, Matt makes his way to the church, Foggy and Leslie trailing behind slightly as they make their way across town. Foggy continues to prattle on about various movies that Leslie hasn't seen and she just nods along half attentively. Matt occasionally jumps in and corrects a missed point in one movie or another, but he mainly lets the mistakes go in favor of focusing on the world and Leslie's spiking heart rate. He knew she was nervous when they made the trip to Foggy's last night, but that seems like a cakewalk compared to her now.

Her hands tremble violently as they clamp down on the book she didn't pack away. Her breathing is shaky and erratic, and it gets worse every time someone passes by. Her head turns at every sound at a neck breaking speed, causing multiple people to turn their heads in their direction. That, of course, scares Leslie more and causes her to slow her pace slightly from nerves.

Matt believes the only thing keeping her from having a full out anxiety attack in the middle of the sidewalk is Foggy. His constant talking about nothing of import seems to be keeping Leslie grounded against the hustle of the daytime world.

Finally after what feels like a decade's worth of walking, the echoes of the organ inside the church ring in Matt's ears and he releases a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding. The morning hymns grow louder as the group moves closer, but it feels like a warm welcome to the tense vigilante. He slows his pace to level with Leslie, who of course cringes when he does, and lifts a hand to point at the large building in front of them.

"That's the church," he explains, earning a similar sigh of relief from the teen as he does. "Father Lantom said you could stay for the day while Foggy and I work."

As he expected, Leslie doesn't give an audible response,but Foggy leans forward slightly and turns to look at her. "She looks worried," he says, holding his hand out to stop the group at a street corner. "Then again, she always does. But this is different. She looks terrified."

Matt turns his head down and sends her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he says calmly as cars race by on the street. "You'll be safe there. The Father and the sisters will take care of you." Leslie exhales heavily and tightens her grip on the book, giving a weak half-nod at the statement before looking forward. The smile falters on Matt's face when her heart rate refuses to lower, but he doesn't have a chance to respond before the cars stop and the people around them start moving again.

The trio make their way across the street and to the front doors of the church without incident, both men keeping Leslie between them. Matt reaches out and grabs the chilled handle, pulling open the door and causing three nuns to look at them. Leslie inhales sharply at the sudden acknowledgement and steps closer to Matt, who simply smiles warmly at the sisters and nods politely. "Good morning, sisters," he says, earning similar nods from the nuns in reply. "Is the Father awake yet?"

One of the sisters nods once more and hurries off to the back, causing Leslie to cringe away at the quickness of her movements. A moment passed before the sister and the Father emerge from the back. "Matthew," Father Lantom says warmly, though Matt can tell he only woke up about half an hour ago. "Glad to see you in the daytime. Who are your friends?"

Matt's smile grows as the Father enters and he nods in his direction as well. "Good morning, Father," he says, extending the hand not holding his cane as Father Lantom approaches. Father Lantom accepts the hand and shakes it a few times before releasing him and accepting the hand Foggy extended. "This is my friend and coworker, Foggy Nelson," he introduces as Foggy says a quick hello. "And-"

"This must be Leslie," the Father finishes, turning his attention to the teen standing between Matt and Foggy. Leslie cringes away at Father Lantom's gaze and takes another step toward Matt. "Matthew told me about you," Father Lantom says, extending a welcoming hand in her direction. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Leslie tenses harshly and flinches away, again tightening her grip on the book so much Matt is surprised it hasn't torn yet. She turns her head toward Matt slightly and he nods once in Father Lantom's direction. Another nervous inhale from Leslie before she pries a hand from the bent paperback and slowly reaches out toward the Father. Her grip is light on his hand, which surprises Matt due to the death grip she still has on the book in her other hand.

Father Lantom doesn't hold for too long and as soon as he releases her hand, it snaps back to take its place on the book. He smiles warmly and straightens, turning his body to address Matt directly. "She'll be fine," the Father assures, motioning one of the nuns forward with a wave of his hand. "The sisters will take good care of her."

"Thank you for this, Father," Matt says gratefully, extending his hand in Father Lantom's direction. "I'm sorry for springing this up on you last second-"

"Don't worry, Matthew," the Father says with a dismissive hand wave as the nun comes to a stop at his side. "You were in a ...less than usual situation. I'm happy to help in any way I can." Matt smiles at the assurances and Father Lantom turns his attention back to Leslie. "Sister Diana will be tending to you throughout the day," he explains. "Of course myself and Sisters Rosaline and Molly will be here, as well. But Sister Diana was the first one to volunteer."

The nun behind the Father nods and also looks to Leslie. "Pleasure to meet you," Sister Diana greets, tone as welcoming and pleasant as Matt remembers all nuns to be. Well, most of them. Others, admittedly, had their moments, but most of them were always nice. "I can take her bag," she continues, turning away from Leslie to extend a hand to Matt, who obliges gratefully as she turns back to Leslie. "If you would follow me, we'll get you set up in one of the spare bedrooms and then we can get started with the day."

Leslie tenses and tightens her grip on the book, seeming to shrink into herself as she takes a half step closer to Matt. He takes a small step away and motions her forward with the hand not holding his cane. "It's okay," he assures gently. "You'll be safe here. Sister Diana and the others will take good care of you."

"Yeah," Foggy agrees, smiling widely and extending his arms forward. "And after we get done working, Matt's going to take us out for ice cream!"

The teen exhales shakily and steps toward Sister Diana, failing to see the baffled look on Matt's face. "I am?" he asks quietly, tilting his head in Foggy's direction as the Sister leads Leslie away.

"Of course you are!" his friend says, throwing an arm over Matt's shoulders and turning him toward the front doors. "Leslie needs it!" Foggy turns his head to look over his shoulder as they walk down the aisle. "Thanks Father!" he calls as Father Lantom waves his good-byes. "See you later!"

Matt calls his own farewells before he's steered out the doors and back into the hustle and bustle of New York. "Do you think she'll be alright?" he asks, putting on his blind man routine and tapping his cane in front of him.

"She's going to be fine," Foggy assures, dragging out the word and unhooking his arm from Matt's. "You worry too much! Just breathe." He inhales dramatically through his nose and puffs out his chest, earning a few quiet laughs from Matt in return. "Ahh!" he says. "Better?"

"I guess," Matt answers looping his arm through Foggy's as he normally does when they walk.

"Good!" his friend says. "Cause now you gotta start thinking of how you're going to apologize for worrying Karen."

##########

The rest of the trip to the office is filled with meaningless chatter, Matt only half listening as he mentally plots out his plans of action for tonight. He could go around punching more Russians, but that got him nowhere last night. He wants to start making progress by the end of this week and get this whole thing sorted out fast, but so far nothing is falling into place. Damn their loyalty.

Foggy leads the way as they walk up the stairs in their office building and opens their door, causing Karen to look up as they enter. "Morning," she says happily, straightening from her spot over her desk as Matt enters. "You're back!" she says, surprise and a touch of glee lightening her tone. "Foggy said you were sick, so I thought you'd be out for the rest of the week."

Matt smiles and pats the wall beside the door, settling his cane in its usual place against the wall before slowly stage feeling around the room. "It was just a day thing," he lies, stopping in front of her desk. "I feel much better now. It must've been the tea you sent."

Karen returns the smile as Foggy shuffles around in his bag for her thermos. "I'm glad," she responds, accepting the thermos when Foggy steps forward and hands it to her. "Did you want me to make more? You can take it home tonight in case you feel bad again."

The smile grows and Matt nods gratefully. "Thanks," he says. "I'd appreciate it."

Returning the small nod, Karen takes the thermos and walks to the small kitchen near the front of the office. "I'll start it a few minutes before we leave," she calls as she empties the small amount of cold tea down the sink. "That way it'll be hot when you go."

"Thanks, Karen," Matt repeats, slowly padding his way to his office. "Is the internet working?" he asks as he slides into his seat and opens his laptop lid.

"Probably," Foggy answers as Karen goes to check the router. "Why?"

"Research."

"What are you researching?" Karen calls, slapping an open palm against the small box in the other room.

Matt can feel the look Foggy is giving him as he feels around on his braille reader when the computer boots up. "Buildings owned by either of the Ranskahov brothers," he replies quickly to Foggy, listening to his friend inhale heavily in understanding as Karen walks back in. "For a zoning case."


	8. Chapter 8

**Im finally updated! Sorry kiddos! Stuff got busy in normal life and I had no time! But hey! This chap is llonger! Maybe that helps? Nah. I'll try to get stuff sooner! Thanks for all the rates, faves, follows and other junks that make me feel all squishy! Here we go!**

 **I own nothing!**

Nothing.

Well, barely anything is more like it. Almost a full day of research and little to nothing to show for. Every building frequently used in the Russian's "business transactions" were either owned by the state, not owned by anyone, or had been scheduled for demolition the next day and is gone now. So all and all, Matt knows nothing about who runs the rink.

With a frustrated huff, Matt closes the lid of his computer and rests his elbows on the table on either side, holding his face in his hands. "I take it you didn't find much," Foggy asks from the doorway, a fresh cup of coffee in each hand.

Matt runs his fingers through his hair and lifts his head. "Nothing would be more like it," he sighs, lifting his hand to accept the coffee as Foggy walks forward. "Everything is a bust so far."

"Don't worry, buddy," the other lawyer responds, handing over the warm mug to his friend's waiting hand. "You'll get something."

The blind man sighs through his nose and takes a sip of the coffee, feeling a small amount of tension leave his body as the hot liquid flows into his system. "Hopefully," he responds, setting the mug on the table. "These guys are good. They don't have a single building in their name. They don't belong to anyone actually."

Foggy nods and takes a drink from his own cup. "Relax," he says through a smile. "These things take time. You know this." Another sigh from Matt. "Besides, you've been working for hours. It's already two hours past lunch. Did you even realize you were hungry?"

It seems as if the sentence awakens his hunger because as soon as the words leave his friend's mouth, his stomach releases a whale mating call. A slight heat rises to his cheeks as he reaches for his mug again. "I could go for some lunch," he says, taking another sip of the coffee. "What were you thinking?"

"I'm glad you asked, Matty," Foggy says cheerfully, moving beside his friend and throwing his arm around Matt's shoulders. "Cause I was thinking you could treat me and Karen to pizza. We go out, grab it, swing by and see Leslie and be back before our next meeting."

Matt feels his eyebrows pull together as his confusion sets in. "We have a meeting today?" he asks through a slight frown.

"Yeah," Foggy replies, moving his arm away and tugging Matt to his feet. "Three thirty. Some guy said something about a false arson charge."

A tired sigh falls from Matt's lips as he allows Foggy to lead him from his office. "Great," he huffs. "Guess we can't just enjoy the rest of the day."

"We can," Foggy assures, turning his head to Karen as she looks up from her stack of paperwork. "Maybe we can all hop a couple bars after work."

Karen smiles at the suggestion and nods a few times. "Only if you're buying," she says, the tone she uses suggests she's only half kidding.

Foggy laughs and shares the nod. "Alright, alright," he agrees, waving her down as Matt shifts away and goes for his cane. "Hey. Matt and I are going for pizza. Any topping preferences?"

"No mushrooms," she offers. "Or jalapeños."

"Boring!" Foggy says in a teasing drone. "So we'll get a boring cheese pizza for Karen and a pepperoni for me and Matt."

"I never said I wanted plain cheese!" Karen exclaims in a fake whine, easily being distinguished by the playful smile on her face. "I want pepperoni or something!"

"Anchovies then!"

"Gross!"

Matt smiles faintly as he listens to his friends bicker childishly, putting on a show of patting the wall for his cane. "How about we just get one with everything on it?" he suggests, 'successfully locating his cane' and turning back to them. "That way I don't break the bank buying pizza and you can just pick everything off you don't want."

Foggy smiles and points at him. "This is why you're the brains of the operation," he says proudly before turning his attention back to Karen. "Sound good to you?"

Karen shrugs and smiles faintly. "Sounds like a plan," she agrees, heart beating in a way that lets Matt know she's half lying. "Go get it. I'll be here."

"Alright," Foggy says, moving closer and tossing an arm over Matt's shoulder. "We'll be back in a few."

"Call us if anything happens," Matt declares over his shoulder as he struggles to keep up with Foggy. "Be back soon!"

##########

The rest of the day went extremely slow. The pizza was cold by the time they got back, but that's only because the stop with Leslie took a bit longer than they expected. Father Lantom and Sister Diana insisted on giving a very extensive, very detailed description of what's been going on and the progress Leslie's made in social interaction. She's still not even close to talking, but her hand stopped shaking so bad and her sentences are getting longer. The Sisters even gave Leslie her own Bible and a small journal to write stuff down in when she doesn't feel like telling Matt or anyone. They also gave her a small, wooden cross necklace that she now has tucked under her shirt and tied tightly in the back.

After the visit, the lawyers left the church and returned to the office, almost surprised to find the potential client already there with the full retainer in cash. Neither lawyer could focus too hard on the meeting; Foggy being too hungry to care about what this guy is saying and Matt too busy deciding whether or not he's lying. About halfway through, his decision is clear and he goes on to help. Once that was over, the trio dug into the pizza and called it a day. Now the two men wander down the street toward the church to pick Leslie up.

"I'm just saying, I think Leslie will feel better if you had a dog," Foggy insists, earning an unseen roll of the eyes from Matt. "Think about it! If something happens and you're not there, the dog will take care of it! It can be one of those PTSD dogs or something and it can help her through anxiety attacks!"

Despite the no that's forming on his tongue, Matt can almost feel himself considering the idea. He does have no experience dealing with anxiety attacks and such, plus he doesn't want to keep putting Father Lantom and the Sisters out of their way to take care of Leslie. A dog would take care of her during the day and when he's out at night. But a dog would be a huge commitment he's not ready to make.

Yes he knows he just brought home a strange, terrified, mute teenager who can barely function without panicking, but that wasn't a decision that wasn't made by him.

"I don't know, Foggy," he starts. "I don't think I'm ready for a dog. Service dog or not."

"But you have a kid now!" the other lawyer counters, throwing an arm over Matt's shoulders and jostling him when they come to a stop at the crosswalk. "They say you're supposed to have a dog before you have a kid you know-"

"Who said that?"

"-and you already skipped straight to having a kid-"

"Technically she's not a kid and I didn't have her."

"-and every kid needs a dog! Perfect reason! And you can totally sell the whole 'I'm blind and definitely don't know what's going on' thing with a service dog!" Foggy concludes in his lawyer time, ignoring Matt's protests as he starts across the street again. "It's the perfect reason!"

"What's with everyone saying I should get a dog," Matt inquires, knowing he won't get an answer as they start up the stairs to the church. "I...respect and admire them. That doesn't mean I want one in my house. That's beside the fact I can barely take care of Leslie."

"I think you're doing a wonderful job, Matthew," Father Lantom says, followed closely by Leslie and Sister Diana. "I believe you will do a good job," he clarifies. "It's only been a day or two and we all know how times can change."

Matt smiles at the quip and steps toward the other group, accepting Leslie's bag from Sister Diana as they all come to a stop. All but Leslie, that is. She continues forward a few steps and takes her spot between Matt and Foggy per usual. "Thank you, Father," he says, shifting the bag to his back on the side without his cane. "I'll try to make arrangements for other days so you-"

"Matthew," the Father interjects, lifting his hand to silence him. "Leslie is no problem at all. In fact, she's one of the better ones we get around here."

"That's great," Foggy says, gently placing a hand on Leslie's shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. "I knew you'd be great! Didja learn anything?"

"We can have a discussion later, Fog," Matt says. "I'm sure Father Lantom and the Sisters want to close up sometime tonight."

"Right," the second man says, releasing Leslie's shoulder in favor of waving at the Father and Sisters. "See you later."

"Goodbye, Mr. Nelson," Father Lantom says before turning his head to Matt. "Matthew," he says with a nod and finally settling his attention on Leslie. "Ms. Leslie."

To Matt's surprise, Leslie gives her own small nod at his farewell before flinching away again. Matt smiles softly before placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her toward the door. "Good night Father," he says, just loud enough to be heard as they exit. "Thank you."

"Any time Matthew," Father Lantom says just before the doors shut behind them. "Any time."

########

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

The man flinches, hands shielding his already blood covered face from the oncoming wrath of his boss. "I'm sorry, sir," he says, the sticky mess in his mouth making his already heavy accent nearly incomprehensible. "But the girl fell off the face of the planet. We looked everywhere."

"Obviously not!" the boss says, emphasising the final word with a savage kick to the ribs. "You know who has her. Find him. Get her. Or I will kill you."

The calm in his voice is what pulls the man off the floor and to his feet, clutching his defiantly broken rib and bowing his head in shame. "Yes sir," he says, struggling to keep the tremor from his voice. "I will find her."

"You better," the boss says slowly, glaring as he watches the subordinate slowly ease his way out. "I don't like when product goes missing."

######

Karen came down with a stomach bug after they left, so bar hopping was out. She said it might've been something on the pizza, but neither of the men feel anything after, so they just chalk it up to her. The trip home had to make a detour to Foggy's house when he realizes they left the giant bear at his house. So they go to his house, grab the bear, leave Foggy home -after he starts feeling the effects of the pizza- and Matt and Leslie head back to his house. Claire stopped by after they settled in and she checked up on Leslie's vitals and restitched Matt's side. Once she left, Matt suited up, and sure Leslie was as settled as she can be for the night before heading out for patrol.

Part of him felt like he was making a bad decision leaving her alone so soon, so he stuck around for a little while before actually heading out. But after a few minutes of lingering on the roof to monitor her heart rate for any spikes or panic attacks, he notices how her heart rate is steadier with him 'away' than when he was there. He doesn't take it personally, though. He kind of figured it would happen like that. After all, she has major trust issues around strangers, especially men. So him being away would most definitely make her feel better.

With that, the vigilante finally settles himself into patrol mode and headed out.

The air is a bit nippy for this time of year Matt notes as he stands near his usual post, senses steadily bringing the city into clear focus for him. Normal city ongoings keep a constant warmth in the air, but at this height, everything seems a bit chillier. Especially when a woman screams and a bucket of ice is poured down his back.

Matt is moving before he realizes, already down and across two rooftops before the scream ends. Two men circle a terrified woman, knives drawn and held toward her like a dark promise. The woman herself is backed against a chain linked fence, high heeled shoes keeping her from simply scaling it to escape. Something about it seems off, but Matt tries not to focus on it too much. Everything seems slightly darker since he's gotten Leslie. Foggy thinks it's his parental instincts kicking to life, but Matt insists it's just because she's so on edge.

He pushes the thought aside and keeps going, closing the distance as he leaps the final gap and drops to the ground behind the attackers. A sharp kick to the center of the back takes one man down easily, drawing the attention of the other man and causing him to advance. Matt snaps an arm out and catches the second man in the jaw, knocking him aside and giving the woman a chance to escape.

"Move!" Matt orders, causing the woman to flinch in a way that makes Matt's stomach turn as a thought of Leslie passes his mind. "Now!"

The woman starts forward, heels clicking on the concrete as she rushes between the recovering men. "Thank you," she says, voice steadier than anyone in a similar situation would be. "Thank you so much." Matt gives a single quick nod before returning his attention to the men climbing to his feet. "But I didn't need your help."

Russian accent.

The whistle of metal piping through the air catches Matt off guard and he's down, the back of his head throbbing and stinging as he lands harshly on his knees. Another blow snaps his head sideways and he sees stars, which is startling in the fact that he can see anything. His senses go haywire, the only thing working is his sharp sense of taste as the coppery blood fills his mouth.

A heeled shoe plants itself on the back of Matt's neck, pinning him to the ground as if he was planning on getting up soon. "Our boss sends his regards," the woman bites coldly, the acid stink of vodka and some pill drug pushing past the blood scent in his nose. "And says that you have three days to return his property. If not, he'll kill every last person in the city until he finds her himself." She grinds her heel in once more before removing the shoe and turning away, starting off in the direction she came from with the men following her.

It takes a while for Matt to move again. Not that he was too badly hurt, it was mainly the fact that he needed to allow his senses time to settle before he even considered doing anything. The first thing his does is reach in his pocket and fishes out the second cell phone he has for moments like this. He doesn't think he needs to call Claire for something like this, but he has another number memorized he thinks could help now. He quickly punches it in and waits, gently holding the phone to his ear. After a minute, someone answers.

 _"Hello?"_

"I'm calling in that favor you owe me," Matt says, words slurring slightly from the blood pooling in his mouth. He spits out a mouthful of the thick liquid before groaning and pushing himself to a kneel. "How soon can you be in Hell's Kitchen?"

He receives a similar groan from the other end and a muttered 'aw stitches' before the other man responds. _"If I leave now about an hour."_

"Good," Matt says, rolling his neck to relieve some pain. "Get here, pack for a few days, and be ready to fight."

 _"Aw, Matt..."_

"One more thing. You still have a dog right?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Surprise!**

The two men stand on the roof of the building Matt found Leslie in, only Matt being able to ignore the light rain that began to fall a few minutes ago. "Come on, Matt," Clint Barton complains, trying and failing to pull his coat collar over his ears. "You couldn't have picked a dryer place to meet?"

"This was the first place I thought of," the lawyer admits, keeping an ear open for any uninvited guests. "Besides, I need you to look for something for me."

"You brought me down here to look at stuff?" Clint asks, giving up his attempt to pull up his collar and shifting to rubbing his arms.

"I can't exactly do it myself."

The archer's mouth opens to speak, but his mind must come up blank because he sighs in defeat instead. "Don't you have other friends?" he asks. "Vigilante friends I mean." Matt laughs and shakes his head, earning another sigh from Clint as he rubs the back of his neck. "Of course not... Well." He crouches down and opens one of the bags at his feet, removing his bow and quiver and hooking both over his shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

Matt nods and leads the way down the nearest set of fire escape stairs and into the first room he comes across. He quickly clears the building after a moment of listening and waves Clint in. The archer swears violently as he hits his head on the window frame on his way in and Matt sighs. "Are you sure you're supposed to be an Avenger?" he mutters, feeling the heat of the glare the other man shoots him. "I don't know what any of the papers are," he continues before Clint can respond. "Anything Russian may be important. I need it all."

"What are you going to do with a bunch of Russian papers?" the Avenger inquires as he walks toward the corner and grabs the first stack of paper. "Not only can you not read Russian, you can't read at all."

Matt fights the urge to bite back a response and simply walks toward the door. "Just get them," he answers stiffly. "And anything that looks handwritten. Names, notes, prices, locations."

Clint pauses and glances toward the lawyer. "What exactly is going on, Murdock?" he asks. "And don't even try to act like you don't hear me. You're blind, but you're definitely not deaf."

The vigilante huffs and shakes his head. "I don't want to talk about it right now," he responds, feeling the leftover odors roll through his nose and onto his tongue.

"And I don't wanna be out in the rain looking for Russian papers," the archer retorts. "But we all don't get what we want." Matt opens his mouth to comment, but Clint cuts him off. "You brought me here, Matt. The least you can do is throw me a bone."

He's right, and the thought pulls another sigh from the lawyer. "Human trafficking," he finally responds, earning a sharp inhale from the archer in reply. "I found a person -a kid really- who was a victim of the Russian human trafficking ring. I thought it was brought down when Anatoly and Vladimir were killed, but apparently someone else took over."

There's a moment of tense silence before the archer releases a low whistle. "That's heavy, man," he says, returning his attention to the papers. "Really heavy."

Matt snorts and refocuses on the world around them. "You're telling me." The duo lapse into another silence before Clint holds up a paper.

"I got something," he says, just as Matt picks up on a door being opened downstairs.

"And we have company," the second man responds, pointing back to the window they came in. "Grab it and go. We'll come back later."

After hastily folding the paper in fours, Clint shoves the paper into his pocket and hurries to the window, going back up the escape and rushing to grab his bags. Once every trace of themselves were gone, so were they, quickly leaping across rooftops to another building a few blocks over. They make their way down the fire escape to the alley where Clint's dog, Lucky, waits patiently. Clint's feet barely touch the ground before he's using the wall for support as he huffs and wheezes. "Whew," he pants as Lucky trots over and licks his other hand. "I don't...see how...you do that...every...night."

Matt rolls his eyes and hops down beside him. "And you're sure you're an Avenger?" he inquires, earning the one finger salute from the wheezing archer in response. "What papers did you get?"

"A packet of lists," Clint responds once he gathers his breath again. He reaches in his back pocket and removes the packet, unfolding the crumpled papers and handing it over. "It's mostly Russian, but there's some names on it."

"That's all I need to start," Matt responds, refolding the papers and mentally wishing he had some form of pockets. The rain starts to pick up and the previously dried and nulled scents of the alley start to come back to life. Matt wrinkles his nose as the odors of three week old urine, poorly bagged baby diapers, rotting food, and a dead rat assault his senses. "Come on, we gotta get home."

######

Leslie is almost asleep when they get home, but she snaps back to consciousness as soon as Matt opens the window. "It's me," he assures, pulling off his mask and stepping down from the window. "We have more friends coming over. One person, one dog."

The teen's heart jumps and Matt pauses before he realizes it's not from fear. The tension and heart rate spike seems to be from excitement. So she does like dogs, he notes. Another right score for Foggy I guess. "I'm going to let them in now," he announces, making his way to the door as Clint climbs the last flight of stairs. "Ready?" After a moment's pause, Leslie gives a quick nod before pulling her legs up and tightening the blanket around her.

Matt returns the nod and walks to the door, doing his usual routine of opening the door before the person knocks. Once again, Clint swears violently and Matt waves him down. "Don't do that," he cautions. "Leslie's sensitive about that language."

Lucky happily bounces past Matt inside the house as Clint raises an eyebrow. "Leslie?" he repeats as Lucky starts yapping joyfully. "Who's Leslie?"

The lawyer steps aside and allows Clint access inside. "You know how I said I found a kid..."

Clint pauses a moment before he releases a slight gasp. "You didn't..."

"Say I brought her home?" Matt finishes quietly, nodding a few times in confirmation before turning and walking back into his apartment. "Never thought I had to." He re-enters the living area and stops, feeling the air shift as Leslie gently pets the dog in front of her. Of course the action sends a cloud of dander and the scent of wet dog into the already tainted air, but this is probably the calmest he's ever felt Leslie, so he refrains from vocalizing his complaints.

Clint moves forward and stops at his shoulder, a slight frown pulling his lips down as he catches sight of Leslie. "Holy shit, Murdock," he breathes, causing Matt to wave him into silence.

"Don't," the second man whispers, listening to the blanket rustle as Leslie shifts. "You'll scare her." Clint is silent for a moment before nodding a few times in reply. Matt returns the careful nod before turning his attention back to the female on the couch. "Leslie," he calls gently, earning an instinctive jump to awareness from Leslie in reply. She quickly pulls herself away from the dog and sits up straight, hands in her lap as Lucky cocks his head sideways in confusion. "Oh no, no, no, Leslie," he says carefully, lifting his hands and taking a step towards her. "You're fine. I was just going to introduce you to our guest."

Leslie remains stiff for a few seconds before she exhales deeply and nods once. Once again, Matt returns the nod and steps aside, listening as Leslie turns her head slightly in their direction. "Leslie, this is Clint Barton. He's an Avenger and he's here to help."

Clint lifts a hand and salutes. "Hey," he greets, causing Leslie to nod hesitantly in response. "I see you've already met Lucky." No response. Clint raises an eyebrow and turns his head toward Matt.

"She doesn't talk," the blind man clarifies, motioning toward one of the chairs on the other side of the room. "You can put your stuff down there for now. We'll get everything settled when we come back."

"Come back?" Clint asks, walking past with an eyebrow raised. "Where are we going?"

"Out," Matt responds. "What? You thought I just brought you out here to grab some papers? Sorry to burst your bubble, Clint, but there's a lot of stuff that needs to be done and not a lot of time to do it." The archer releases a heavy groan of annoyance as he drops his stuff beside the chair and Matt smiles in faint amusement. "I'll be back," he informs as he turns toward the bathroom. "Get ready. We leave when I'm done."

Clint grunts in acknowledgement and flops into the chair. "Fine," he grumbles in defeat as Matt leaves. "Hurry up. I'm not exactly on vacation here."

"Yeah, yeah," the lawyer responds distractedly, too busy focusing on Leslie's heart rate. Of course it's still nowhere near healthy levels, but with Lucky beside her feet, it has gone down. He ponders the thought of actually getting a dog as he enters the bathroom, then stops. Christ, Murdock, he thinks tiredly as he closes the door. She's not staying forever...is she? Either way, I'm not getting a dog.

With the decision finalized in his mind, Matt relieves himself, washes his hands, and heads back out. "Ready, Bar-" The vigilante allows the sentence to die on his tongue as he tunes in on Clint's sleeping breath and heart rate. He allows himself to focus for another few seconds before releasing a sigh of defeat and turning to face Leslie. "Are you going to be OK with him here?" he asks, mentally cursing himself for forgetting to ask her earlier. She's the one who's going to be holed up with him until everything settles out. She should've been the first one he asked.

Her head shifts slightly in the sleeping man's direction a few times before nodding twice in confirmation. Matt nods in agreement and listens again, Leslie's heart rate jumping when Lucky nudges her hand with his head, then slowing as she starts petting him. I'm not getting a dog, he reminds himself as he pulls his mask back over his face. I'm not getting a dog.

"I'm heading out," he announces, heading back to the window once his mask is back in place. "I'll be back before too long. I just have a few more things to check on." Leslie nods again and continues to scratch the dog's ear, making it hard for Matt to breathe too deeply without sneezing. "There's leftovers in the fridge," he reminds, trying to take shallow breaths as he climbs out into the raining city. "Eat if you get hungry. Cups are above the microwave or on the counter if I haven't put them away yet. Help yourself to something to drink if you need it. And don't forget to use the bathroom when you need to. If anything happens, Clint's here and my cell phone is on my nightstand. Call Foggy if you need to, alright?" Another nod from Leslie.

An amused snort falls from Clint's core and Matt turns to him, surprised he didn't hear him wake up. "Can you be any more of a mother hen, Murdock?" he asks, forcing Matt bite the inside of his cheek to keep from responding. "She'll be fine. I'm with her. What's the worst that could happen?"

"In your career I could spell it out chronologically or alphabetically," Matt responds, earning a hiss of mock hurt from the archer in response.

"Ouch," he remarks sarcastically, failing to stifle a yawn as he stretches in his chair. "Mean. I thought we were friends."

"If you were my friend, you'd be getting up and helping me."

Clint grins nervously and shrugs. "Gotta hold down the fort here," he responds. "Can't leave Leslie alone by herself, can we?"

Matt rolls his eyes under his mask and turns back to Leslie. "You'll be OK," he assures, despite the mild feeling of worry he detects in her rising heart rate. "Clint's an Avenger. He's more qualified in the fighting business than I am."

"I doubt that," Clint responds with a shrug as he shifts to lay horizontally across the chair. "But I get your point." He yawns again and tilts his head toward Leslie. "I got you, kid. We'll be fine."

Leslie looks toward Matt again, who nods once in her direction. She gnaws on the inside of her lip for a moment and Matt almost says he's going to stay, until Leslie exhales again and nods. Matt lingers for another second before nodding once again and starting up the escape steps before he has a chance to stop himself.

 **Ok, to be quite honest, I didn't mean for this chapter to go as it did. I was reading Hawkeye comics and I read a very amusing fic about if the two met and, well, this happened. I'm not sure how long he's gonna stick around, but I'm probably not going to keep him for long. Anyhow...**

 **Sorry I went on hiatus for that long. It was a mixture of laziness and pressure from work I'm guessing but hey, no more excuses. I'm trying to hop back on this horse and I'm slowly but surely chipping away at this. I actually got this chapter done in a day, if you believe it. So if I can keep this pace up and post on the weekends, we could be golden. If not...I'll work something out.**

 **To those who are still here, thanks for waiting. To those who just got here, welcome. To everyone, thanks for everything.**


	10. Chapter 10

**yet another chapter that was sitting in the finished folder. I really need to get my shit together, but my adult life shit kicked up first. I'll try to get better on this, I promise you all!**

 **I own nothing!**

The phone that vibrates in Clint's pocket pulls Matt from his restless sleep, also earning an annoyed groan from Clint in the same go. The archer shifts in the chair and pulls the device from his pocket, fumbling a bit before actually answering the call. "Yeah," he slurs, lifting his other hand to rub the side of his head.

 _"We need you,"_ a familiar female voice responds, causing Matt to roll over to face Clint. _"We have a mission."_

"Now?"

 _"Three hours."_

Clint groans again and moves, shifting his legs to sit correctly in the couch. "Fine," he huffs, using the heel of his hand to knead his eye. "I'll be ready."

 _"You better."_

The line disconnects and Clint sighs, dropping the phone onto his lap and holding his head in both hands. "Was that Natasha?" Matt asks, causing the archer to look at him over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he says through another sigh. "Just as bossy as ever."

Matt smiles at the memory of his old friend and pushes himself up. "Tell her I said hi, would ya?" he asks as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. "It's been a while."

"Will do, buddy," the Avenger assures with a half-hearted salute and another yawn. "I'm sure you heard, but I gotta go."

"I heard." Clint's yawn causes Matt to yawn and he runs a hand down his face. Matt frowns at the glove that makes contact with his face and blinks, finally realizing he fell asleep in his suit...again.

"I was wondering how you slept in that thing," Clint comments after seeing his confusion, a few tired chuckles passing through his lips with the words. "It looks like it would ride up like a b-"

Matt shushes him quickly and listens, picking up on Leslie's heart rate. "Language," he reminds, causing Clint to cringe slightly and turn to her.

"Sorry, kid," he declares gently, earning a half nod from the teen in reply. Clint returns the nod and looks back to Matt. "Well," he grunts, pushing himself to his feet and stretching his arms over his head. Lucky jumps down from his place on the couch beside Leslie and releases his own yawn before taking his spot beside his friend. "Looks like I'm leaving."

"Looks like," Mat agrees, sliding down to the floor himself and sighing. "Sorry for dragging you down here just for papers."

"Don't worry about it," Clint dismisses, gathering his belongings and hooking Lucky to his leash. "But I'll be calling you with a tedious favor one day, and you can't say no."

Matt allows a faint smile to play on his lips before nodding in agreement and following him toward the door. "Fine," he declares, leveling with Clint in the middle of the hall. "But I will complain."

"It wouldn't be the same if you didn't," the archer teases lightly, shifting everything to his left hand and extending his right. "See you around, Murdock."

Matt accepts the hand and shakes twice. "See you around."

Clint nods and leans over slightly. "See you, Leslie," he calls, making Leslie jump and her heart rate spike.

"You scared her," Matt informs, earning another apologetic cringe from Clint in response.

"Sorry."

Matt nods and releases the hand, both men sighing contently before Clint finishes the trip to the door. "Another day, Murdock."

"Another day." Matt listens as Clint and Lucky exit the apartment and make their way down the stairs, Clint continuously grumbling obscenities about the heavy rain that continues to fall. He focuses on the guests until they get all the way outside and hail a cab that allows Lucky in once Clint flashes his Avengers ID. After the two leave the block, Matt refocuses on the ongoings in his own building.

There's a leaking pipe on the floor below, and Matt guesses that it's been like that for a while due to the growing mold spot under it. A few apartments over from him, a newborn cries again, two mothers debating about who's turn it is before the second mother crawls out of bed to feed their child. In his apartment, Leslie's stomach growls. She's hot under the heavy blanket that she pulled over herself sometime during the night but she does nothing to move it. Her uncasted leg bounces at a lightning rate. Her heart still races. Her breathing is rhythmic but still faster than normal.

All and all, Leslie's still nervous.

On a brighter note, the worst of her wounds are starting to lose the touches of infection and none of her stitches are broken or pulled. On a not so bright note, it's going to take weeks to get the scent of wet dog from his couch.

Foggy...Foggy...Foggy...

Leslie emits a small yelp of fear and pulls herself into a tight ball around her cast on the couch, heart rate spiking at the sudden sound. Matt swears under his breath and rushes to his phone, quickly answering and holding it to her ear. "Fog," he breathes quickly, holding his phone to his ear as he moves back toward Leslie. "Hold on a second. Leslie's freaking out."

 _"Take care of her."_

Matt responds distractedly before setting the phone on the table and crouching in front of Leslie. "Hey," he says gently, hands hovering awkwardly around her as he debates on whether or not to touch her. "Hey. Leslie. Breathe. OK? You're OK. Breathe with me, alright? Ready? In."

A shaky inhale.

"Good. Out."

Half sob.

The lawyer coaxes Leslie through the exercise for about five minutes before she calms down on her own. Once she's back to her normal heart and breathing rates, Matt sighs in relief and retakes his phone. "Foggy?"

 _"Is Leslie OK?"_ Foggy asks as soon as the word left Matt's mouth. _"What happened?"_

"Leslie's OK," Matt assures rising from his crouch and walking toward the kitchen. "I think she was on edge when Clint came over and then was startled by our phone call."

 _"Who's Clint and why was he over?"_ the other lawyer asks, the over-protective tone he only uses during his Daredevil lectures clear even over the phone.

"An old friend," Matt admits, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it from the tap. "Avenger actually. But he didn't stay long."

 _"Why was he there in the first place?"_

Matt hesitates a few seconds before sighing. "I'll tell you when I see you," he responds,walking back over and handing the glass to Leslie.

 _"It was a night job thing?"_ Foggy infers, earning a confirming hum from Matt in reply. _"Leslie?"_

"Something to do with that, yes," the blind man answers, still hovering around Leslie for any other mishaps.

 _"And you're sure she's OK?"_ Foggy asks again. _"I can stop by before work if you want."_

Matt smiles at his friend's concern. "She's fine, Foggy," he assures again, listening as Leslie finishes the glass and lowers it to her side. "Just shaken up as always." He extends a hand toward the teen for the glass, only to have to retract it slightly when she flinches away. "I'll make sure she's OK before I head to work."

 _"Is she going to the church again?"_

"Probably not. Her broken leg is grinding again and I'm sure she's not going to want to walk on it. She'll be fine on her own for a bit, right?" He directs the of the statement to Leslie and causes her to flinch again. She gives a shaky nod in response and Matt returns the nod. "I'll take off a little early though," he declares around a yawn. "I don't wanna leave her alone for too long if I can help it."

 _"Makes sense. Hey, I'll see you in the office. I'm pretty sure someone's trying to steal my taxi."_

Matt laughs lightly and accepts the glass once Leslie offers it. "See you then. Bye, Fog." He disconnects the line and sighs, setting the phone back on the table and turning back to Leslie. "Are you alright?" he asks, earning a quick nod from Leslie as she slowly uncurls herself from the tight ball. "You sure?" Another nod. "Alright."

He sighs again, this time from tired relief instead of just being tired. "Good," he says through a faint smile. "Hungry?" She pauses in thought before wringing her hands together and nodding slowly, her stomach agreeing with the gesture by releasing a soft round of grumbles.

Matt feels the heat rise in the teen's face once the noise settles and can't help but laugh, causing Leslie to tense more and tighten her hands together. The lawyer coughs to hopefully stop laughing and shakes his head a few times. "I'm sorry," he says, crouching down again and resting a hand on his knee. "I didn't mean to laugh. Honestly." Leslie gnaws on the inside of her cheek for a moment before relaxing as much she can and nodding.

Matt flashes her an assuring smile before pushing himself back to his feet and starting for the kitchen, mentally cursing himself for causing the situation and congratulating himself for getting out of it. Once he settled himself, he exhales deeply and focuses, sorting through the remaining food he has in his fridge and cabinets. Same as before: nothing.

"Um," he ponders aloud, reaching for the cabinet with the quarter bag of dried fruit and pulls it open. "Do you like..." Pauses to sniff. "Dried cranberries, banana chips, pineapple, and papaya?" He shakes the bag slightly and catches another whiff. "It has nuts in it. You aren't allergic to anything aren't you?" Leslie hesitates and chews on her lip for a moment before shrugging.

He almost doesn't give it to her. The last thing he needs is to discover Leslie has a fatal food allergy in an uncontrolled situation. His arm twitches to put it back, but Leslie's stomach growls again in anticipation and stops him. After debating the other contents of his house before sighing in defeat and closing the cabinet and going back to the couch. "We'll go shopping soon," he promises, extending the mostly empty bag to the teen. "Until then..."

Leslie slowly accepted the bag, sending Matt a grateful nod as she lowers the package to her lap and carefully pulls it open. "There's a market not too far from here," Matt continues once Leslie fishes a few banana chips from inside and lifts them to her mouth. "We might be able to go there tomorrow of the rain lets up. How's that sound?" The teen doesn't respond for a few seconds, then gives a weak nod before swallowing the chips. "Great."

Once Leslie's tries everything in the bag at least once and nothing bad happens, Matt nods again and moves to his dresser. "I'm going to shower and head to work," he informs, opening the first drawer and grabbing a pair of boxers and some socks before moving to his closet. "I'm going to pick up some take out tonight for dinner. Any preferences?" A quick shake of the head in reply. "Alright. I'll see if Foggy has any suggestions, then."

Leslie nods again and Matt heads to the bathroom with his clean clothes in hand, stopping and backtracking to get Leslie another glass of water before completely committing to the shower. After thoroughly cleaning himself of any dirt and blood that may be clinging to him, Matt dries off and dresses, still running his towel through his hair as he exits the steamy room. Leslie still sits in the corner of the couch, the only noticeable changes that happened being the now empty bag of trail mix beside her and the book on her lap.

"Everything alright?" he asks at the end of the hallway, causing Leslie to jump and slam her book closed. "Whoa," he says, lifting both hands to show no threat. "It's just me." It takes Leslie a second to calm herself to her normal levels and she nods again, another wave of heat rising in her face. "Everything OK?" Another nod and Matt returns it. "Good."

He makes sure his hair is a decent level of dry before tossing the towel haphazardly onto the chair near his room. "I'm heading out now," Matt informs, grabbing his briefcase, watch, and cane from their spots as he listens to Leslie flip through the book again. "My second phone is here. If you need anything, call Claire. She works nights normally, so you should be able to reach her." A third nod.

"There's nothing much to eat here," Matt continues apologetically. "But you can see if any of the take-out food is still edible. You know where the cups are. You can shower if you'd like. And don't forget to use the bathroom." The muscles in Leslie's face twitch and a smile flickers on her lips, causing Matt to share the gesture before running a hand through his hair. "Great," he chimes, running a finger over his watch and allowing his smile to fall. "I'm late."

He hurries and assembles his cane as he rushes toward the door. "I'll be back soon," he assures, snatching his keys from the bowl on the stand near the door. "You're OK for now, right?" Wow. Maybe Barton was right about the mother hen thing...

Before he can entertain that thought, Leslie nods in confirmation and pulls him away from it. "Good," Matt responds as he unlocks and opens the door. "Call if you need anything. See you soon." He receives another quick nod from Leslie just as he shuts the door and he focuses on her for a few seconds before assuring himself Leslie is OK.

 _Foggy...Foggy...Foggy..._

Matt fumbles for his phone and spins toward the stairs on a heel, pulling it from his pocket and answering it before the fifth ring. "I'm on the way," he informs in a huff. "I'm on the way."


	11. Chapter 11

**I actually didn't wait to post this this time! Someone applaud me!**

 _She's screaming, that's all she can do. All her fighting is pointless against the stronger men that hold her arms and legs. Her broken body struggling against the Russians that drag her away, old injuries tearing open and slowing her struggles. Fear-fueled tears race down her face, cutting tracks in the dirt and blood that stains her cheeks._

 _Matt can't move. Everything hurts too much, his own body heavy and refusing to obey the most basic commands. Lead. That's the only way he can describe it. His entire body is made of lead, rendering him even more useless than the female being taken by the Russians._

 _All he can do is lie on the ground in a pool of his own blood and sense everything going on around him. He can't even call to her. Can't assure her that he'll find her again. Can't even lie to say everything will be OK._

 _Leslie's being taken, and he can't do anything._

 _He's failing, and he can't stop it._

#########

A few quiet knocks on his door frame pulls Matt from his nightmare and he leaps up, banging his knee on the edge of the table while his senses take in his surroundings.

Karen. It's just Karen in the doorway, and judging by her stiff posture, she's looking at him funny. "Uhm," she starts, glancing behind her as Foggy appears in his office window. "I was going to ask your preference on lunch, but now I think I'll ask about that."

"Yeah, Murdock," Foggy agrees, voice slightly muffled by the glass he stands behind. "What was that?"

Matt inhales deeply and tries to soothe his racing heart, failing to banish the remnants of the nightmare from his mind. "Nothing," he lies weakly, running his hand through his hair to ignore the looks he feels coming from his friends. "Just a dream I guess."

Karen's posture relaxes and she takes a half step toward him. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, concern clear in her voice. "I read somewhere that talking helps."

"No no," the blind lawyer rejects gently, shaking his head and feeling around for his cane. "I just need some air. Has anyone decided lunch yet?"

Foggy shakes his head and enters his office, grabbing his cane from the wall near the door and extending it in his direction. "Here," he says. "I think we settled on subs from the little place down the street. I'll call it in and you can pick them up, sound good?"

"Yeah," Matt replies distractedly, feeling his way to his friend and accepting the came from his hand before passing him. "Sounds good."

"You're paying?"

"Mmhmm."

"You want what you always get, right?"

"Sure," Matt says, now at the door and grabbing the knob. "I'll be back in a few." Without waiting for a response, Matt hurries out the door and almost forgets to be blind, already set in the plan he didn't realize he made.

He's just going to pop in to check on Leslie. Just a peek. He has to know she's alright. His dream may have just been a dream, but it still shook him. He's already had people threatening to find her, any possibility of them actually finding her sends him up the wall. Especially when she's home alone.

As soon as he hits the street Matt quickens his pace, having to mentally restrain himself from breaking into a sprint. He's in a rush, but getting exposed isn't going to help anything. So he keeps his steady but quickened pace and makes his way home.

The trip takes about ten minutes in total but it feels like a lot longer when dealing with the rest of the lunch hour traffic. He takes the stairs to his apartment two or three at a time, almost breaks the key in the lock with how hard he turns it and nearly slams the door against the back wall when he opens it. Leslie's heart rate piques at the ongoings and she leaps to her feet, the book she was reading flopping uselessly on the floor as she scurries behind to the opposite end of the couch.

Relief comes in the form of a heavy sigh and Matt finally manages to slow himself down, dropping his stuff by the door and entering the apartment with his hands up and a hesitant smile on his face. "Hey," he starts, trying to hide the slight exhaustion that begins to catch up to him. Leslie doesn't relax though, he can sense the slight tremble that sets in from her tension. He lets his arms drop, but doesn't try to approach like he wants to. "Are you hungry?"

It takes a minute or two for Leslie to relax to her normal state, but when she does, she gives a small nod in response. Matt mimics the nod and starts for the kitchen. "Karen and Foggy probably ordered their food already," he explains, keeping his voice light like Foggy does, but still keeping his senses tuned on her in case something happens. "We're getting subs. Is that OK?" Another quick nod from Leslie as she slowly moves to pick up her book. "Any pretences on what goes on it?" A quick shake of the head as response. "So anything is OK?" Nod. "Great."

He knows she's still on edge and he knows he's the one who put her there when he burst through the door. He's still pretty jumpy from that encounter with the Russians earlier this week, and the dream he had felt so real, so that didn't help at all. Even though Leslie only left his house twice in all the time she's been here, he can't help but feel as though something terrible is going to happen because of it.

A quick shake of his head clears the thoughts from his head and he moves to the cabinets. "Is everything alright here?" he asks, voice too clipped to even be considered casual. "Are you drinking enough water?" Two nods from Leslie as she slips back on to the couch and pulls the blanket over her legs. "No one came by?" She shakes her head. "Good." Another nod. Matt returns the nod as he grabs himself a cup from the shelf and fills it to the brim with water from the tap. After he downs half the glass, he pours the rest down the sink and sets the cup on the counter.

"I'm heading back out now," he informs. "I just stopped by to see how everything's going." Leslie nods a few more times and turns her head with his movements, following him as he makes his way out the kitchen and around the wall to the door. "If you need anything before I get back, you can call my number on the second phone, alright?" Another nod. "Great. I'll be back in a few."

The lawyer crouches down beside the door to gather his discarded belongings and freezes, zeroing in on the changes in Leslie's breathing and heart rate. The breathing pattern is almost familiar, but he can't place it. Like he's heard it before, but only in other people. Almost like she's going to-

"Matt?"

It takes all he has not to burst into tears. That single word uttered with such an intense fear from the last person he'd expect to hear talk. Her voice is quiet, so much so that he almost believes he imagined it. But he knows there's no way he could ever imagine such a broken voice himself. Trembling slightly and croaking from disuse.

She's tense now. Waiting for punishment he can tell. How long has gone by since she spoke? Too long probably. Way too long by her standards probably. He straightens quickly and clears his throat. "Yes, Leslie?" His tone is tight and he knows it. He's doing his best to hide his shock, but he totally blew it with that one.

Leslie doesn't seem to notice though, digging her nails into the blanket as if choosing her words. "Would it be... Can I..." Her words die, but she inhales and exhales heavily to get them back. "Can I have a doughnut?"

Matt almost laughs. He doesn't know why, but it feels right at the moment. "Of course," he answers, voice portraying the smile he didn't even realize he formed. "Is that all?" She seems to lose her nerve after that. All he receives is a confirming hum before she returns to her silence. "Alright," he continues, grabbing the knob with his free hand and opening the door. "I'll be back with your food in a few minutes, OK?" Another nod. "See you then."

He steps out as Leslie nods once more and locks the door, shoving his keys in his pocket and withdrawing his phone in the same movement. His phone rings at the same time he pulls it out and he nearly drops it in surprise, fumbling slightly before finally managing to answer it. "Hello?"

 _"How's Leslie?"_ Foggy asks, voice echoing in the background enough to tell Matt he's hiding in the bathroom. _"Don't bother denying it, I know you went to check on her."_

"Yeah I did," the blind man agrees, not bothering to put his blind act on in the empty apartment building. "She's fine. I scared her a bit when I came in, though. But she's fine now."

 _"That's good,"_ Foggy says, releasing his own sigh of relief. _"With the way you left the office, someone could've sworn she was dying."_ Matt comes up without a reply and Foggy inhales deeply. _"Alright, that was a bad joke,"_ he admits. _"My bad."_

"It's fine," the other man replies, another smile pulling up his lips. "She's really ok. She even talked to me."

Matt hears Foggy's jaw drop and he laughs lightly as he starts down the first flight of stairs. _"Hold the damn phone,"_ he starts,clearly trying not to shout in excitement. " _She talked to you?"_

"Yup."

 _"Like actual words?"_

"Actual words."

A small bark of excited laughter escapes his friend's mouth before he can bite down on it and he takes a moment to regain some composure before he speaks again. _"What'd she say?"_ he asks happily. _"How much did she say?"_

"She didn't say much," Matt responds, finishing his descent and starting his actual blind act. "Just asked for a doughnut."

 _"I told you she loved junk food,"_ the second lawyer boasts teasingly. _"Anything else?"_

"Nope. Hey, can you order her a sub when you order ours? She's kinda hungry."

 _"On it. What does she want?"_

"It doesn't matter to her," Matt replies as he makes his way onto the street. "Just nothing too extreme. We don't want to overwhelm her."

 _"Of course not. I'll just get her a basic turkey to start off with."_

"Sounds great. Tell Karen I'll be back in a few." After receiving the final farewell from his friend, Matt disconnects the line and shoves his phone back in his pocket. With his spirits a bit higher than they have been in a while, Matt allows a faint smile to dance on his lips as he makes his way to the sub shop.

Maybe he can do this.


	12. Chapter 12

The day ends quickly after lunch, no meetings or anything to really keep them there after that. They do, however, stay behind to take a shot of the whiskey Foggy apparently hides in his desk as commemoration of their first year of being in business. He suggested going on a bar hop for a bit before they actually go home, but Karen was expecting a phone call about a doctor's appointment and couldn't make it, and he never really expected Matt to go out since he still has Leslie. So he ended up taking his whiskey home.

Matt makes the final turn to make it onto his block, a new sense of calm washing over him as he does. Now that Leslie has opened up the option of talking, he starts to think about the conversations they can actually have with each other rather than the struggle of communication they seem to have going on now. Ok, he'll admit he's getting a bit ahead of himself with that daydream, but it's a happy thought he can tend to.

Leslie's heart rate comes into his hearing range not too long after he gets inside the building, the pace it's going telling him that she's asleep soundly. He smiles for a moment before a second heartbeat enters his range, causing him to pause on the stairs and focus harder. After a moment, Matt drops his cane and makes a dash for his apartment.

There's no sign of forced entry, but he doubts there will ever be with this man. He's too skilled to do something that sloppy. But he did ding the lock on the window. Matt assumes it's from shoving a knife through to open it, but he's too concerned to ask. Instead, he clears the stairs in record time and shoves his key in the lock, very nearly ripping the door off the hinges with the amount of force he uses to open it. Surprisingly, Leslie doesn't stir.

Frank Castle lifts his head from where it rests on the back of the couch, turning in Matt's direction as he enters. Leslie sleeps soundly with her head resting on his leg, the slight salt scent he can catch coming from her indicating she was crying a while back. Probably a panic attack due to Frank's sudden appearance. Understandably, of course, given the amount of weapons he left by the window.

"Hey, Red," he greets almost cheerfully, lifting a hand and waving slightly. "I heard about a Russian sex worker going missing over the weekend. Is this her?"

"What did you do to her?" Matt asks coldly, noting the way Frank shakes his head dismissively. "She-"

"Has no problem with me," Frank finishes for him. "Once I told her I killed a few of the bastards on the docks, she seemed to relax." He releases a few chuckles and shakes his head fondly. "She had a bit of an issue when I got here, though. But it all worked out."

A white hot anger flashes through Matt's core at the casualness of his tone, but he chews on the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check. "Why are you here, Frank?" he starts instead. "How did you even find out where I live?"

Frank shrugs carelessly. "I have friends all over the place, Red," he reminds. "But only I know now. So don't worry about it."

Another flash of anger and he's clenching a fist. "You kill too easily."

"And you don't do it enough." Frank lifts a hand to keep him from responding. "But that's a conversation for another time," he finishes. "Is this really the girl who disappeared from the Russians?" he asks, resting a hand on Leslie's shoulder. It was light enough, but she still jumps subconsciously at the contact. "She looks pretty banged up."

Matt's fist relaxes and he sighs heavily. There's really no point in getting mad. Ok, there is, but it's not going to accomplish anything. Frank will be Frank. Plus Leslie apparently doesn't see him as a threat, so that has to count for something, right?

"Yeah," he answers, "she is. I picked her up about a week ago. She's better than she was before. At least, she sounds better." He lifts a hand and waves it in front of his face. "I can't see if she looks better."

Frank chuckles at the notion and nods in agreement. "So you've had her all this time and no one bothered to tell you how she looks?" he laughs. "What the hell?"

Matt frowns in mock annoyance and shrugs. "It wasn't important."

"But you're not curious?"

He can't come up with a response, but he can feel a smugness rolling from Frank at his silence. "Shut up." Frank laughs again, this time a bit louder and it causes Leslie to stir. Matt takes a step forward to help, but he stops when she does. "You never answered my question," he reminds bitterly. "Why are you here?"

Frank waves a hand dismissively. "I was in the area," he explains. "I wanted to see how my favorite goody two shoes was doing. I'm going to leave soon. I just needed a nap."

"So you nap in my house?"

"I was in the area." Matt frowns and Frank laughs again. "No bull shit, though. I'll leave after my nap."

"You haven't napped yet?"

"I was making sure the pipsqueak was asleep. She takes a bit and she's on and off. I think she's out for good now, so I can sleep."

Matt almost kicks him out, but realizes his actions may disturb Leslie. He almost wonders if Frank framed it this way so he couldn't kick him out. He sighs heavily in defeat and turns toward his door. "Don't stay too long," he relents sourly. "I left my cane downstairs. I'll be back."

"Take your time, Red," Frank calls quietly, shifting lower in his seat to make himself comfortable. "I'm not going anywhere."

 **So I know I'm awful or whatever, but here. I found a bit of motivation for this filler bit and to tell you that I might be working on this a bit more maybe. I am in college now (sobs) but I'm going to try to see if I have the motivation to continue this work at all. Anime has taken over my life yet again, but I still know where I wanna take this. If need be, I can make a few really long chapters to get to where I wanna go and wrap it up that way. Or I can go back to infrequent updates followed by shitty little bits. I guess we'll see as time goes on, but I am leaning to wrapping it up with uber long chaps that I can actually edit as much as I want and what not. I'll keep you posted as I know.**

 **Thanks for whomever is still waiting, reading, following, commenting, or whatever you're doing. You brought me back and got me thinking again.**

 **Keep it up you guys. Ya'll rock!**


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